IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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I.I 


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u£    12.0 


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■ilau 

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FhGtogFaphic 

Sdences 

Crrporation 


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93  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

WnSTIR,N.Y.  14SM 

(7U)t73-4S03 


;\ 


CIHM/iCMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Inttituta  for  Historical  IVIicroraproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microreproductions  historiqua;^ 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notas  tachniquea  at  bibliographiquas 


The  inatituta  haa  attanr>ptacl  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographically  uniqua, 
wliich  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
raproduction.  or  which  mav  aignificantly  changa 
tha  uaual  mathod  of  filmir,),  are  chackaid  balow. 


0 


D 
D 


n 


D 


Colourad  eovara/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


I     I    Covara  damagad/ 


Couvartura  andommagte 

Covars  raatorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Couvartura  raslaurte  at/ou  pallicul6a 


I     I   Covar  titia  miaaing/ 


La  titra  da  couvartura  manqua 


I     I   Colourad  mapa/ 


Cartaa  gtographiquaa  an  coulaur 

Colourad  ink  (i.a.  othar  than  blua  or  black)/ 
Encra  da  coulaur  (i.a.  autra  qua  blaua  ou  noira) 


I     I   Colourad  plataa  and/or  iiluatrationa/ 


Planchaa  at/ou  iiluatrationa  an  coulaur 

Bound  with  othar  matarial/ 
RalM  avac  d'autraa  documanta 

Tight  binding  may  cauaa  ahadowa  or  diatortion 
aiong  interior  margin/ 

La  r9  liura  aarria  paut  cauaar  da  I'ombra  ou  da  la 
diatortion  la  long  da  la  marga  IntAriaura 

Blank  laavaa  addad  during  raatoration  may 
appear  within  tha  text.  Whenever  poaaibie,  theae 
have  been  on  itted  from  filming/ 
II  ae  paut  que  certainaa  pagea  blanchea  ajoutAea 
lore  d'une  reatauration  apparaiaaant  dana  la  taxte, 
mala,  loraqua  cela  Atait  poaaibie.  cea  pagea  n'ont 
pea  4t*  fiimAaa. 

Additional  commanta:/ 
Commentairea  auppMmantairea; 


L'Inatltut  a  microfilm^  la  meilleur  exemplaira 
qu'il  lui  a  4tA  poaaibie  de  ae  procurer.  Lea  dAtaila 
da  cat  exemplaire  qui  aont  peut-Atre  uniquea  du 
point  da  vue  bibiiographique,  qui  pauvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dana  la  mAthodo  normale  de  filmage 
aont  indiqute  ci-deaaoua. 


I — I   Coloured  pagea/ 


D 


Thia  Item  la  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  eat  film*  au  taux  de  rMuction  <ndlqu*  ci-deaaoua. 


Pagea  de  couleur 

Pagea  damaged/ 
Pagea  andommagtea 

Pagea  raatorad  and/oi 

Pagea  reataurtea  at/ou  palliculAea 


I — I    Pagea  damaged/ 

p~|   Pagea  raatorad  and/or  laminated/ 


0   Pagea  diacoloured,  atainad  or  foxed/ 
Pagea  dAcolortea,  tachettea  ou  piqutea 

□   Pagea  detached/ 
Pagea  d^tachAea 

0Showthrough/ 
Tranaparence 

□    Quality  of  print  variea/ 
Qualiti  in^gaia  da  I'impraaaion 

□   Includea  auppiementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  material  aupplAmantaira 


I — I   Only  edition  available/ 


Seule  Mition  diaponible 

Pagea  wholly  or  partially  obacured  by  errata 
aiipa,  tiaauea,  etc.,  havr  been  refilmed  to 
enaura  the  beat  poaaibie  image/ 
Lea  pagea  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obacurciea  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  4tA  filmAea  A  nouveeu  de  faqon  A 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  poaaibie. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

} 

22X 

26X 

30X 

1 

v/ 

12X 

itx 

20X 

24X 

28X 

32X 

.      i 

Tho  copy  filmed  hara  hat  baan  raproducad  thanka 
to  tha  ganaroaity  of: 

Douglas  Library 
Quaan's  Unlvarsity 

Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
posalbia  conaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibllity 
of  tha  original  copy  ^nd  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  apacificationa. 


Original  copias  in  printad  papar  eovara  ara  filmad 
beginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa- 
sion.  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  beginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  lliuatratad  impras- 
sion,  and  anding  on  tha  last  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illustratad  imprasaion. 


Tha  last  racordad  frama  on  aach  microficha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  — ^  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  V  (moaning  "END"), 
whichavar  applias. 

IMaps,  platas,  charta,  ate,  may  ba  filmad  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  expoaure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framea  aa 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


L'exemplaira  film*  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
gAniroaitA  da: 

Douglas  Library 
Queen's  University 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  AtA  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compta  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattet*  de  I'exemplaire  film*,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  eat  ImprimAa  sent  fiimfo  en  commengant 
par  le  premi..  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
darniire  paga  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'Smpreasion  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  caa.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sent  filmte  en  commen?ant  par  la 
pramiAre  parja  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impreaaicn  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  darni^re  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaftra  sur  la 
derniAra  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  la  symbole  — «»  signif le  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmte  A  des  taux  de  rMuction  diffArents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA,  11  est  filmA  A  partir 
de  I'angie  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  baa,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivante 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

ip 


v.. 


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1 


I         Tuned 
Fortnlghtl 


.,  1883. 


Price,  25  Oents. 


No.  86. 


I 


yxAN 


LIBRART- 


4- 


•%£. 


^•*'^ 


By  GRANT  ALLEN. 


Fortnightly. 


CopnUll>t*  IH^  l>7  Funk  *  Waonau  b. 
Ka*  i«4  !•  Iftw  T«rk  Po.t-O0ct  m  i««ood-«Uii  m*il  mktler. 


Babffcrlptlon  price, 
I>er  yew,  |0. 


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Colin  Clout's  Calendar. 


BT 


GEANT   ALLEF 


AUTHOR   OF  "  TBI  ■TOLVTIONIIT  AT  LABOK,"    **  TIOMITTES   rROX  MATCRS,"  ETC 


""♦■s, 

i 


^.' 


h 


THE  RECORD   OF  A  SUMMER. 
APRIL-OOTOBER 


I 


:  1 
•;it 


H^' 


NEW  YORK: 

FUNK  &  WAGNALLS,  Publishbrs, 

10  AND  12  DxT  Street. 


« 


si; 


QM 


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1^3? 


4^ 


Entered,  accordtn;;  to  Act  of  Congreee,  In  1883,  by 

FUNK  &  WAGNALLS, 

In  the  OflUce  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


Id 


^/u^^ /ftfc  A,^ 


PREFACE. 


I 


The  greater  number  of  the  papers  are  botanical, 
and  these,  I  hope,  will  be  found  to  contain  some 
new  and  original  views.  The  remainder,  dealing 
with  the  animal  world,  though  not,  I  tnist,  mere 
transcripts,  owe  more  to  such  previous  and  more 
serious  works  as  those  of  Mr.  Darwin,  Mr.  A.  R. 
Wallace,  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  and  Professor 
Weismann.  I  ought  also  to  express  my  indebt- 
edness in  the  botanical  portion  to  Dr.  Bentham, 
Sir  Joseph  Hooker,   Professor  Sachs,   and    other 

standard  authors. 

G.  A 


ji 


/ 


91.  (p^l^ 


/ 


I 


i 


^ 


CONTENTS. 


I 


rAoi 

r.  Primrobb  Time 7 

II.  The  Return  of  the  Swallows 13 

III.  The  Beginnings  op  Spring 19 

IV.  Wild  Hyacinths.... 24 

V.  Thb  Trout  Jump 80 

VI.  Catkins  andAlmond  Blossom 86 

VII.  Spring  Flowers , 40 

VIII.  Rhubarb  Sprouts 45 

IX.  The  Swallows  Again 50 

X.  The  Green  Leap    55 

XI.  The  Flowering  op  the  Grasses 60 

XII.  The  Submerged  Forest C6 

Xin.  A  Summer  Trip. 71 

XIV.  The  Clover  Blooms 7g 

XV.  Early  Seedtime 83 

XVI.  A  Squirrel's  Nest 89 

XVII.  Foes  in  the  Hayfield 94 

XVIII.  Haymaking  Begins 100 

XIX.  The  Mole  AT  Home 106 

XX.  July  Flowers 111. 

XXI.  Cherries  are  Ripe 117 

XXII.  Dog-rose  and  Brambles 123 

XXIII.  Sundew  and  Butterwort 129 

XXIV.  White  Rabbits  and  White  Hares IJJS 

XXV.  Thistledown  Blows 149 

XXVI.  Scarlet  Geraniums 145 


/ 


Vl  CONTENTS. 

PAOK 

XXVII.  Rain  on  the  Root  Cnops 153 

XXVIII.  Hops  Blossom 159 

XXIX.  Tub  Depautuhb  ov  thk  Hwifts 165 

XXX.  Wateuside  Weeds 170 

XXXI.  Asparagus  Beiiries 176 

XXXII.  The  Kerning  op  the  Wheat 183 

XXXIII.  Thk  Origin  ob'  Grouse 188 

XXXIV.  Plums  Ripen 198 

XXXV.  The  Pear  Harvest 199 

XXXVI.  Some  Alpine  Climbers 205 

XXXVII.  Some  American  Colonists 211 

XXXVIII.  The  Weeds  of  Bedmoor 217 

XXXIX.  Thor's  Hammer.." 222 


r 


t 


u 


COLIN  CLOUT'S  CALENDAR. 


I. 


f 


u 


PRIMROSK    TIME. 

Yebterday,  April  showers  chased  one  another  across 
the  meadows  all  day  long,  corning  and  going  between 
interlu(tes  of  fathomless  blue  sky  and  vivid  sunshine, 
the  fleecy  clouds  being  driven  like  slieep  bef' rn  a  f-ollie 
by  the  brisk  south-westerly  breezes.  To-day,  tlje  ioff 
Acre  is  smiling  accordingly  with  lusl  '^r  grasB,  and  the 
bustling  bees  are  busier  among  fresher  and  swc'^^^r  prim- 
roses.  For  the  Fore  Acre  is  not  a  level  field,  like  iwiff 
others  on  the  farm  :  it  slop^^s  down  m  biokf^n  terraces 
from  the  barton  to  the  barilis  of  Venlake,  a«B  wo  call 
our  little  streamlet  in  the  valley  below ;  and  it  is  tl'*- 
slope  that  makes  it  the  best  spot  near  the  homestead  fo*. 
primroses  to  grow  on.  These  pet  fancies  and  predilec 
tions  of  the  flowers,  indeed,  are  not  without  full  and 
satisfactory  reasons  of  their  own.  The  plant  chooses  its 
proper  haunt  with  due  regard  to  its  special  needs  and 
functions.  It  seeks  warmth  and  slielter  in  some  cases  ; 
bracinj  moorland  air  in  others  ;  moisture  and  shade, 
or  sun  i  rid  open  ^pace,  according  to  the  peculiar  tastes 
and  habii  it  has  inherited  from  its  remotest  ancestors. 
We  lordly  human  I  eings  are,  perhaps,  too  apt  to  over- 
look 'A\Q  esstnitial  community  of  life  and  constitution  be- 


it 


I) 


/ 


/ 


8 


COLIN   CLOUT  S  CALENDAR. 


tween  ourselves  and  the  plants.  We  underestimate  their 
unconscious  intelligence  and  their  guileless  cunning  ;  we 
forget  that  in  their  insentient  fashion  they  plot  and  plan 
and  outwit  one  another  with  almost  human  semblance  of 
intentional  strategy.  Yet  those  of  us  who  live  much  in 
their  society  learn  at  last  to  recognize  that  there  is  a 
meaning  and  a  purpose  in  everything  they  do — a  use  for 
every  little  unnoticed  point  of  structure  or  habit  in  their 
divinely  ordered  economy.  Even  the  very  date  of  their 
flowering  has  a  settled  purpose  of  its  own,  and  bears 
some  definite  reference  to  the  insect  that  brings  the  pol- 
len, or  to  the  time  needed  for  rijjening  and  setting  the 
seed.  To  watch  the  succession  of  these  little  members 
of  the  floral  commonwealth,  to  learn  the  connection  in 
which  they  stand  to  one  another,  and  to  interpret  the 
purpose  that  they  severally  have  in  view — these  are  the 
great  problems  and  the  self-sufficing  rewards  of  those 
who  slowly  spell  out  for  themselves  from  living  hiero 
glyphics  the  emblems  of  the  country  calendar. 

See  from  the  edge  of  the  hillside  here  how  the  prim- 
roses cling,  as  it  were  on  purpose,  to  the  tumble  slopes 
and  banks  of  the  Fore  Acre,  leaving  almost  flowerless 
the  level  platforms  of  terrace  between  them.  Each  little 
banker  escarpment  is  a  perfect  natural  flower-bed,  thick- 
ly covered  from  top  to  bottom  with  beautiful  masses  of 
tufted  yellow  bloom.  But  in  between,  on  the  interme- 
diate grassy  bits,  there  are  no  primroses  ;  or,  to  speak 
more  correctly,  all  the  pi'imroses  there  are  cowslips, 
their  tall  scapes  not  yet  much  more  than  just  raised 
above  the  level  of  the  greensward.  For  at  bottom  prim- 
roses and  cowslips  are  really  identical :  even  the  old- 
fashioned  botanists  have  freely  allowed  that  much,  and 
have  reunited  the  two  varieties  as  a  single  species  under 
a  common  name.    The  leaves  are  absolutely  indistinguish- 


{1 


' 


PUIMROSE  TIME. 


able,  as  you  observe  when  you  look  closely  at  theiu  ; 
the  structure  of  the  individual  flowei*s  is  the  same  in  all 
important  points  :  they  only  differ  in  the  arrangement 
of  the  blossoms  on  the  stem  ;  and  even  in  that  the  two 
forms  are  connected  by  every  intermediate  stage  in  the 
third  dubious  variety  known  as  the  oxlip.  Why,  then, 
do  cowslips  differ  from  primroses  at  all  ?  For  a  very 
simple  yet  ingenious  reason. 

The  true  primrose  almost  always  grows  on  a  bank  or 
slope,  where  its  blossoms  can  readily  be  seen  by  the  bees 
and  other  fertilizing  insects  without  the  need  for  any  tall 
common  flower-stalk.  Hence  its  stalk  is  undeveloped, 
as  the  scientific  folk  put  it — in  other  words,  it  never  pro- 
duces one  at  all  to  speak  of.  Each  separate  primrose 
springs  by  a  distinct  stem  from  a  very  stunipy  and  dwarf- 
ish thick  little  btock,  which  represents  the  same  organ  as 
the  long  and  graceful  stalk  of  the  cowslip.  This  stock 
is  so  short  that  it  is  quit?  hidden  by  the  close  rosette  of 
downy  wrinkled  leaves  ;  but  if  you  examine  it  carefully 
you  will  see  that  the  flowers  are  arranged  upon  it  in  an 
umbel  or  circular  group,  exactly  like  that  of  its  taller 
and  slenderer  nodding  relative.  Each  primrose  blossom 
is  also  larger,  so  as  more  easily  to  secure  the  attention  of 
the  passing  bee.  In  the  cowslip,  on  the  other  hand, 
growing  as  it  usually  docs  on  level  ground,  the  common 
stalk  hasr-  acquired  a  habit  of  lengthening  out  prodig- 
iously, so  as  to  raise  its  clustered  bunch  of  flowers  well 
above  the  ground  and  the  surrounding  grasses,  and  thus 
catch  the  eye  of  some  roaming  insect,  who  could  never 
have  perceived  its  buried  blossoms  if  they  were  laid  as 
close  to  the  grass-clad  earth  as  in  the  case  of  the  neighbor 
primroses.  The  two  varieties  have  now  become  prac- 
tically almost  distinct,  because  each  naturally  sticks  to  its 
own  best-adapted  haunts,  and  is  usually  crossed  only  by 


rt! 


.  *;. 


10 


COLIN   clout's   calendar. 


pollen  of  its  own  kind.  But  the  oxlip  is  a  sort  of  unde- 
cided tertium  quid,  an  undifferentiated  relic  of  the  old 
undivided  ancestral  form,  which  grows  in  intermediate 
situations,  and  crosses  now  with  one  plant  and  now  with 
the  other,  so  preventing  either  from  finally  taking  its 
stand  as  a  truly  separate  species. 

The  reason  why  the  thoroughgoing  primroses  do  not 
crohs  with  the  thoroughgoing  cowslips  is  easy  enough  to 
understand  :  they  are  seldom  both  in  blossom  together. 
This,  again,  naturally  results  from  the  form  and  habit  of 
the  two  flowers.  In  both,  the  head  of  bloom  is  produced 
from  material  laid  by  during  the  past  year  in  the  peren- 
nial rootstock  ;  and  in  both,  the  buds  begin  to  sprout  as 
soon  as  the  weather  grows  warm  enough  for  them  to 
venture  forth  with  safety.  But  the  "  rathe  primrose" 
bursts  into  blossom  iirst,  because  it  has  only  to  produce 
short  subsidiary  stalks  for  each  separate  flower  ;  the  cow- 
slip lingers  somewhat  later,  because  it  has  to  send  up  a 
stout  common  stem,  besides  forming  the  minor  pedicels 
for  the  individual  cups.  Their  other  differences  are  all 
of  similar  small  kinds.  The  primrose,  standing  straight 
up  from  the  earth,  receives  the  fertilizing  bee  or  butter- 
fly on  the  face  of  its  wide-open  corolla ;  the  cowslip,  a 
little  pendulous  by  nature,  receives  its  guest  from  below, 
or  from  one  side,  and  so  has  its  blossom  more  bell-shaped 
as  well  as  less  widely  expanded.  The  primrose  ^s  pale  to 
suit  its  own  special  insect  visitors  ;  the  cowslip  is  a  deeper 
yellow,  melting  almost  into  orange,  to  meet  the  tastes  of 
a  somewhat  different  and  perhaps  more  daintily  aesthetic 
circle.  At  bottom,  however,  both  flowers  are  very  nearly 
the  same,  and  their  peculiarities  are  all  specially  intended 
to  insure  a  very  high  type  of  cross-fertilization. 

Observe  that  in  both  flowers  the  corolla,  though  deeply 
divided  into  Ave  notched  lobes  or  sections,  is  yet  not 


^U 


UJ 


I^^t,  irai-Jaj^fc^mfa, 


PHIMUOSE    TIME. 


11 


^U 


\ 


really  composed  of  separate  petals,  but  tapers  beneath 
into  a  very  long  and  narrow  tube.  Cowslips  and  prim- 
roses belong  by  origin  to  the  great  division  of  five-petalled 
flowers  ;  for  all  blossoms  originally  had  their  parts  ar- 
ranged either  in  sets  of  threes  or  in  sets  of  lives  ;  and 
this  distinction,  though  often  obscured,  is  still  the  most 
fundamental  one  between  all  flowering  species.  But  in 
the  primrose,  as  in  many  other  advanced  types,  the  five 
primitive  petals  have  coalesced  at  their  bases  into  a  single 
tube,  so  as  to  make  the  honey  accessible  only  to  bees, 
butterflies,  and  other  insects  with  a  long  proboscis,  who 
could  benefit  the  plant  by  duly  effecting  the  transfer  of 
pollen  from  the  stamens  of  one  flower  to  the  sensitive 
surface  of  another.  In  blossoms  with  open  petals  many 
thieving  little  creatures  come  in  sideways  and  steal  the 
honey  without  going  near  the  pollen  at  all :  in  a  better 
adapted  flower  like  the  primrose  such  a  mischance  is 
rendered  impossible. 

Notice,  too,  that  in  both  varieties  the  eye  or  centre  of 
the  corolla  is  deep  orange,  while  the  outside  is  lighter  in 
tone.  This  difference  in  color  acts  as  a  honey -guide,  and 
directs  the  bee  straight  to  the  mouth  of  the  tube  at  whose 
base  the  nectar  is  stored.  And  now  again,  let  us  cut 
open  one  or  two  flow^ers  of  each  variety,  so  as  to  lay  bare 
the  interior  of  the  tube.  See,  they  have  each  two  sepa- 
rate and  corresponding  forms,  known  long  ago  to  village 
children  as  the  thrum-eyed  and  the  pin-eyed  primroses 
or  cowslips.  In  the  pin-eyed  form  the  long  head  of  the 
pistil,  looking  for  all  the  world  like  an  old-fashioned 
round-headed  pin,  reaches  just  to  the  top  of  the  tube, 
and  forms  the  prominent  object  in  the  centre,  while  the 
five  stamens  are  fastened  to  the  side  of  the  tube  about 
half  way  down.  la  the  thrum-eyed  form,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  stamens  make  a  little  ring  at  the  top  of  the 


I 

'U 


>  h 


12 


COLIN   CLOUT'3   CALENDAU. 


tube,  while  the  pin-headed  summit  of  the  pistil  only 
reaches  just  half  way  up  the  tube,  exactly  opposite  the 
same  spot  where  the  stamens  are  fixed  in  the  other  sort. 
When  the  bee  begins  by  visiting  a  thrum-eyed  blossom, 
she  collects  a  quantity  of  pollen  on  the  hairs  at  the  top 
of  her  proboscis.  If  she  then  visits  a  second  flower  of 
the  same  type,  she  does  not  fertilize  its  pistil,  but  only 
gathers  a  little  more  pollen.  As  soon,  however,  as  she 
reaches  a  pin-eyed  blossom  she  unconsciously  deposits 
some  of  this  store  of  pollen  on  the  sensitive  surface  or 
pin  of  its  pistil ;  while  at  the  same  time  some  more 
pollen,  half  way  down  the  tube,  clings  to  her  proboscis, 
and  is  similarly  inibbed  off  against  the  pistil  of  the  next 
thrum-eyed  blossom  she  chances  to  visit.  The  exact  cor- 
respondence in  position  of  the  various  parts  in  the  two 
diverse  forms  admirably  insures  their  due  impregnation. 
Thus  each  blossom  is  not  only  fertilized  from  another 
flower,  but  even  from  a  flower  of  an  alternative  type, 
which  is  a  peculiarly  high  modification  of  the  ordinary 
method. 


^ 


' 


II. 


THE  RETURN    OF  THE   SWALLOWS. 


'^K, 


J 


Last  week's  showers,  much  longed  for  and  anxiously 
expected  after  the  apparently  endless  spell  of  bitter  east 
winds,  have  brought  out  the  meadows  at  last  into  the 
full  fresh  green  of  early  spring.  The  buds  upon  the 
horse-chestnuts,  which  stood  idle  and  half-open  for  so 
many  days,  have  now  finally  burst  forth  into  delicate 
sprays  of  five-fingered  foliage  ;  and  the  young  larches 
among  the  hillside  hangers  are  revelling  in  the  exquisite 
and  tender  freshness  of  verdure  which  larches  alone  can 
exhibit,  and  even  they  only  for  two  short  weeks  of  April 
weather.  As  for  the  hedgerows,  I  really  think  I  can  never 
recollect  anything  to  equal  them.  The  innumerable  pecks 
of  March  dust  from  which  we  have  been  suffering  seem 
to  have  brought  forth  gold  enough  in  the  celandines  and 
crowfoots  for  many  royal  ransoms  ;  and  the  masses  of 
primroses  on  the  sunny  banks  are  both  tliicker  in  tufts  of 
bloom  and  with  larger  individual  blossoms  than  I  ever  be- 
fore remember  to  have  seen  them.  The  copses  on  Woot- 
ton  Hill  are  carpeted  with  daffodils,  wood-anemones,  and 
hyacinths,  in  great  patches  of  yellow,  blue,  and  white  ; 
and  it  is.  no  wonder  that  to-day  I  should  have  seen  the 
swallows,  enticed  back  from  their  winter  quarters  in  Al- 
geria by  the  sun  and  the  flowers,  flying  low  above  the 
gorse  and  the  violet-beds  in  the  undercliff,  where  they  may 
now  catch  hundreds  of  small  insects  on  the  wing  around 
the  honey-bearing  blossoms  which  attract  them  out  of 
their  cocoons  upon  these  warmer  and  brighter  mornings. 


II 


V  ! 


14 


COLIN   CLOUT  S  CALENDAR. 


What  marvellous  complexity  of  interaction  and  mutual 
relations  between  all  the  parts  of  nature  and  organic  life 
this  familiar  fact  of  the  swallows'  yearly  return  implies 
for  us  !  Hard-billed  seed-eating  and  berry-eating  birds, 
or  mixed  seed-eaters  and  insect-eaters,  can  manage  to 
find  food  for  themselves  in  England  all  the  year  round. 
^ay,  even  those  species  which  live  mainly  upon  worms, 
slugs,  and  other  hardy  small  deer,  can  pick  up  a  living 
somehow  or  other  through  our  northern  winters.  But 
pure  fly-catchers,  like  the  swallows,  must  starve  during 
the  five  months  when  winged  insects  are  almost  wholly 
lacking  in  temperate  climates.  Thus  it  becomes  a  mat- 
ter of  necessity  with  them  to  move  south  at  the  begin- 
ning of  autumn,  toward  the  orange  groves  of  Italy  and 
the  palms  of  Africa.  Before  they  can  return,  there 
must  be  insects  in  the  north  ;  and  these  insects  must  have 
been  hatched  from  the  egg,  and  re-hatched  from  the 
chrysalis  stage,  before  they  are  fitted  to  become  food  for 
swalloMP,  since  swallows  feed  only  on  the  wing.  Ac- 
cordingly, it  is  not  until  the  spring  flowers  are  well  out, 
and  the  winged  insects  have  begun  to  suck  their  honey, 
that  the  various  species  of  the  swallow  family  make  their 
appearance. 

The  true  swallows  come  first,  and,  taking  one  year 
with  another,  the  second  week  of  April  may  be  taken  as 
the  average  date  of  their  return  to  the  south-western 
counties  of  England  ;  but  this  year  the  spring,  in  spite 
of  its  early  promise,  has  hung  fire  a  little  in  a  curious 
half -hesitating  way  ;  and  so  I  have  not  seen  the  first 
shallow  till  this  morning.  The  swifts,  larger  and 
stronger  birds,  which  fly  even  more  incessantly  than 
their  cousins  and  therefore  require  a  more  abundant 
food-supply,  do  not  usually  come  northward  till  the  be- 
ginning of  May,  when  the  flowers  and  insects  are  in  full 


THE    KETLllX    OF   TIIK   SWALLOWS. 


10 


■■ 


force  ;  and  they  leave  iis  again  in  August,  while  the 
swallows  linger  on  till  the  late  autumn.  Both  kinds  fly 
low  and  open-mouthed  over  the  most  flowery  meadows, 
where  they  catch  honey-sucking  insects  in  abundance  ; 
or  over  the  ponds  and  rivers,  where  they  meet  with  in- 
numerable mayflies  and  other  winged  species,  whose 
larvae  live  as  caddis-worms  or  the  like  under  water,  while 
the  perfect  insects  hover  above  it  to  lay  their  eggs  upon 
the  surface. 

The  question  as  to  the  supposed  instinctive  feelings 
■which  dnve  the  swallows  north  or  south  at  the  proper 
season  is  an  extremely  interesting  one  ;  and  perhaps  only 
very  recent  views  as  to  the  nature  of  climatic  chunges 
and  zones  can  enable  us  in  time  to  give  the  true  explana- 
tion. Hitherto  it  has  been  usual  to  think  of  the  differ- 
ences of  climate  between  Europe  and  Africa  as  though 
they  had  always  been  permanent,  and  so  to  raise  unneces- 
sary difficulties  in  the  way  of  a  rational  solution  to  the 
problem.  If  England  had  always  had  a  cold  winter, 
"while  Algeria  always  had  a  warm  one,  and  if  a  double 
belt  of  sea  had  always  separated  us  from  the  two  conti- 
nents, it  would  indeed  be  hard  to  understand  how  an 
English  bird  could  first  bethink  itself  of  moving  south- 
ward in  winter,  or  how  an  Algerian  bird  could  ever  be 
seized  with  an  original  impulse  to  go  northward  in  the 
spring-time.  It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  early 
naturalists  should  have  taken  refuge  in  the  hypothesis  of 
a  special  instinct  implanted  in  the  swallows,  independ- 
ently of  experience,  and  prompting  them  to  seek  the  ap- 
propriate climate  by  some  unknown  "  sense  of  direction" 
at  the  proper  times  of  year.  But,  with  our  existing 
knowledge  as  to  the  past  history  of  European  geography 
and  meteorology,  no  such  cutting  of  the  Gordian  knot  is 
now  necessary. 


IG 


coLix  clout's  calendar. 


We  know  that  the  climate  of  England  in  comparatively 
recent  times  was  apparently  as  warm  as  t'lat  of  Nortli 
Africa  ;  and  we  know  that  at  the  same  period  the  beds 
of  the  Mediterranean  and  the  English  Channel  were  dry 
land.  Hence  it  was  then  at  least  as  easy  for  the  swifts 
and  swallows  to  range  from  Scotland  to  Sahara  as  it  now 
is  in  America  for  the  hardier  humming-birds  to  range 
from  Canada  to  Mexico.  But  when  the  change  of  "  cos- 
mical  weather' '  made  England  by  slow  degrees  too  cold 
in  winter  for  flowers  and  midges  to  flourish  all  the  year 
round,  the  swallows  would  begin  gradually  to  fly  a  little 
to  the  south,  as  each  autumn  came  on,  and  remove  a  lit- 
tle to  the  north  again  as  spring  returned.  At  first,  no 
doubt,  they  would  only  have  to  shift  their  quarters  very 
slightly  in  search  of  more  plentiful  food,  without  them- 
selves being  conscious  of  any  special  migration.  In 
course  of  time,  however,  as  the  difference  in  climate  be- 
came more  and  more  marked,  the  birds  would  have  to 
fly  further  and  further  south  with  each  successive 
autumn,  and  would  be  enticed  further  and  further  north 
again  to  their  original  homes  with  each  successive  spring. 
Thus  at  last  the  practice  of  migration  would  become 
engrained  in  the  nervous  system,  and  would  grow  into 
what  we  ordinarily  call  an  instinct — ^that  is  to  say,  an 
untaught  habit.  This  is  the  stage  at  which  the  migratory 
custom  has  always  remained  in  America,  where  broad 
stretches  of  land  extend  from  the  Arctic  region  to  the 
tropical  forests,  unbroken  by  any  intermediate  zone  of 


severing  sea. 


In  Europe,  however,  special  circumstances  have  added 
another  and  more  complicated  element  to  the  problem — 
the  element  of  discontinuity.  The  Mediterranean,  the 
English  Channel,  and  the  Baltic  practically  cut  off  the 
various  parts  of  the  swallows'  summer  hunting-grounds 


.V 


THE   RETURN   OF  THE  SWALLOWS. 


,b 


from  their  African  wintering- places.  To  get  from  Eng- 
land to  Algiers,  many  swallows  fly  over  wide  expanses 
of  sea^  far  too  broad  to  see  across,  and  therefore  quite 
destitute  of  landmai'ks.  It  is  simple  enough  to  And  one^s 
way  by  land  from  Canada  to  Mexico  ;  but  it  is  quite  an- 
other thing  to  find  one's  way  across  the  sea,  without  a 
compass,  from  Algeria  to  Marseilles  :  yet  this  is  the 
route  annually  taken  by  one  large  body  of  northward- 
bound  swallows.  Dr.  Weismann,  however,  has  suggest- 
ed an  ingenious  and  fai  iy  satisfactory  explanation  of  the 
difficulty.  He  points  out  that  the  lines  taken  by  the 
swallows  and  other  migratory  birds  correspond  on  the 
whole  with  the  shallowest  parts  of  the  Mediterraneanj 
where  it  is  most  intersected  by  peninsulas  and  islands. 
"When  the  Mediterranean  valley  began  to  sink  below  the 
sea-level  it  must  at  first  have  produced  two  or  thr-.e  large 
lakes  in  the  deepest  portions  of  its  bed  ;  and  between 
these  lakes  there  must  have  been  connecting  belts  of 
land,  now  marked  respectively  by  Sicily  and  Italy,  by 
Sardinia  and  Corsica,  and  by  Gibraltar  and  Tangicrs, 
with  their  uniting  submarine  banks.  Of  these  the  Span- 
ish belt  is  still  almost  entire,  and  it  offers  no  special  diffi- 
culty ;  the  others  are  now  broken  up  into  peninsulas  or 
islands.  Dr.  Weismann  supposes  that  various  flocks  of 
birds  grew  accustomed  to  proceed  north  or  south  along 
one  such  connecting  belt,  while  the  land  was  still  in  pro- 
cess of  subsiding ;  and  that  their  descendants  still  con- 
tinue to  follow  the  same  lines  till  they  reach  the  final 
headlands,  and  then  fly  straight  over  sea  in  a  definite 
direction  till  they  sight  the  opposite  land.  The  younger 
birds  follow  their  elders ;  while  the  elders  themselves 
have  learned  the  proper  landmarks  and  directions  from 
similarly  following  their  own  predecessors,  and  gradually 
take  the  lead  in  their  turn  as  the  seniors  drop  off  one 


Wl 


I 

I 


: 


18 


COLIN   CLOUT'S   CALEXDAU. 


by  one.  Thus,  if  we  may  believe  so  plausible  a  theory, 
by  a  sort  of  unconscious  hereditary  teaching  the  memory 
of  the  lost  land-connections  has  been  handed  down  from 
one  generation  to  another  since  pre-glacial  times.  Were 
Corsica  and  Sardinia  now  to  sink  slowly  beneath  the 
waves,  It  is  not  difficult  to  conceive  that  the  swallows 
might  still  gather  yearly  upon  the  hills  at  Mentone,  and 
fly  southward  across  the  blank  space  to  Tunis  under 
guidance  of  their  most  experienced  elders. 


^  ^ 


11 


^ 


*  ^ 


III. 


V 


THE   BEGINNINGS   OF   SPRING. 

In  spite  of  the  severe  and  long-continue'.l  cold,  the 
trees  and  flowers  themselves  seem  to  have  made  up  their 
minds  that  we  are  to  have  an  early  spring — at  all  events 
here  in  the  west  country.  The  difference  in  the  general 
forwardness  of  vegetation  between  the  two  great  slopes 
on  either  side  of  England  is  this  year  extremely  marked. 
In  Kent  and  Sussex  the  buds  are  still  closely  covered  in 
their  dusky  winter  coats  ;  the  flowers  (save  primroses) 
have  hardly  begun  as  j^et  to  straggle  here  and  there  in  a 
tentative  way  through  the  long-frozen  soil  ;  and  there  is 
scarcely  a  sign  anywhere  among  the  meadows  or  copses 
that  spring  has  set  in  at  last.  But  in  the  south- we^stern 
counties  it  is  quite  otherwise.  The  gardens  here  are  gay 
already  with  bright  golden  borders  of  crocus  ;  snowdrops 
are  flourishing  in  the  open  air  ;  and  jonquils  and  daffo- 
dils are  sending  up  their  pale  yellowish  green  leaves, 
inclosing  their  tall  scapes  with  the  papery  spathes  hall- 
revealing  the  slender  buds  within.  On  the  horse-chest- 
nut trees  the  dark  gummy  sheaths  are  just  beginning  to 
open  under  the  pressure  of  the  wan  and  growing  leaflets 
which  they  have  covered  through  the  winter  season  ;  the 
hardier  shrubs  are  already  well  in  leaf,  though  the  blades 
are  still  folded  together  or  only  half  expanded  as  yet ; 
and  even  on  the  hedges  the  white-thorns  are  showing 
signs  of  life,  the  little  fresh  pink  scales  bursting  through 
their  brown  and  withered  coverings,  or  even  sometimes 
showing  a  tiny  green  tip  at  the  very  end  of  a  growing 


ii. 


20 


rOLIN    CI.niT  S   CALKNDAU. 


bougli.  Will  II I  break  off  tlio  HiiKillcr  branches  I  can  see 
bj  tho  briglit  green  and  sappy  look  of  the  inner  bark 
that  the  bnsbcs  are  actively  engaged  in  putting  forth 
chlorophyl,  and  that  a  few  days  more  of  these  warm 
westerly  breezes  will  bring  out  tho  buds  into  leaves,  at 
least  in  the  sheltered  southern  hollows  and  combes. 

This  wide  difference  of  climate  between  tho  Atlantic 
slopes — open  chiefly  to  the  influences  of  the  Gulf  Stream 
and  the  warm  breezes  which  blow  across  it- -and  the  east- 
em  half  of  Britain,  which  lies  right  in  the  teeth  of  the 
Siberian  east  winds,  has  even  stamped  itself  permanently 
on  the  character  and  distribution  of  our  flora.  Many  of 
our  plants  of  warmer  types  are  only  found  in  the  south- 
west. The  high  moor,  on  which  I  have  come  out  to-day 
for  my  morning's  stroll,  covered  even  now  by  little  white 
and  short-stemmed  daisies — they  will  grow  taller  and 
pinker  as  the  spring  advances — is  Claverton  Down  ;  and 
Claverton  Down  is  the  only  station  in  England  for  a' 
particular  species  of  hairy  spurge,  of  which  in  fact  I  am 
now  in  search. 

It  is  not  in  itself  a  particularly  interesting  plant,  being 
very  little  different  from  the  other  spurges,  all  of  which 
are  mere  rank  woodland  or  wayside  weeds,  with  curious 
green  and  black  flowers,  more  noticeable  to  the  botanist 
than  to  the  ordinary  observer.  But  the  fact  that  it  is 
found  nowhere  else  in  Great  Britain  except  on  this  spot, 
>ne  of  the  warmest  and  most  forward  hill  districts  in  the 
south  of  England,  gives  it  an  adventitious  value  for  every 
collector,  and  a  real  one  for  the  student  of  botanical  his- 
tory. Evidently,  the  hairy  spurge  grows  here,  and  only 
here,  because,  being  a  mountain  species  of  warmer  cli- 
mates, Claverton  Down  is  the  only  hill  in  Britain  at  once 
high  enough  and  warm  enough  to  suit  it.  This  explana- 
tion sufficiently  accounts  for  its  absence  elsewhere,  but 


THE   BEOINNINQS  OF  SPRINO. 


21 


not  quite  for  its  preBeiieo  here.     How  did  it  get  from  tlio 
Continent  to  Claverton  Down  ? 

If  the  occurrence  of  the  hairy  eiMirgc  in  England  were 
nn  isolated  case,  wo  nn'ght  8U])poHe  that  it  had  been  acci- 
dentally imported  by  man,  or  that  the  seed  had  been 
blown  here  by  the  wind,  or  that  it  had  been  carried  over 
by  clinging  to  the  feet  of  birds.  Such  accidents  do  im- 
doubtedly  account  for  many  special  facts  of  distribution 
and  acclimatization — for  example,  all  oceanic  islands,  as 
Mr.  "Wallace  has  amply  shown,  arc  peopled  with  mere 
waifs  and  strays  of  various  distant  faunas  and  floras  in 
just  this  fragmentary  fashion.  But  the  case  of  the 
spurge  is  by  no  means  a  solitary  one  ;  on  the  contrary, 
the  south-western  districts  of  England  and  of  Ireland  are 
full  of  peculiar  species  found  in  no  other  parts  of  Brit- 
ain. Thus  a  pretty  little  purple  lobelia,  a  familiar  plant 
in  southern  France  and  Spain,  is  alone  found  with  us  on 
a  single  common  near  Axminster  in  Devon.  So,  too, 
Cornwall  and  the  Scilly  Isles  are  rich  in  southern  forms. 
The  arbutus,  or  strawberry  tree,  which  grows  so  abun- 
dantly, with  its  white  bell-shaped  blossoms  and  its  pretty 
red  berries,  over  the  Provenc^al  hills,  is  met  again  quite 
unexpectedly  on  the  mountains  of  Kerry.  The  Mediter- 
ranean heath — that  beautiful  white  scented  heather  which 
every  visitor  to  the  Pyrenees  has  gathered  in  spring 
among  the  pine-woods  of  Pau  and  Arcachon — turns  up 
once  more  a  thousand  miles  off  in  Connemara.  Alto- 
gether, no  fewer  than  twelve  Spanish  species  are  found 
in  south-western  Ireland,  and  in  no  other  part  of  Brit- 
ain ;  while  similar  species  extend  to  Pembrokeshire,  or 
are  peculiar  to  the  south-western  peninsula  of  England 
and  tl«3  Mediterranean  or  Spain  and  Portugal.  A  spe- 
cial Portuguese  slug  and  a  few  other  southern  animals 
are  also  found  under  the  same  conditions. 


l 


i\ 


\u  ! 


22' 


COLIN   clout's   calendar. 


I 


Clearly  it  would  be  absurd  to  set  down  so  many  coin- 
cidences between  these  warm  western  regions  of  Britain 
and  the  Continent  to  the  chapter  of  accidents  alone. 
Our  south-western  flora  is  undoubtedly  on  the  whole  a 
Spanish  and  Pyrenean  flora  in  its  general  aspect,  with  a 
large  intermixture  of  northern  fonns.  Sometimes  the 
south  European  species  linger  on  only  in  a  single  spot, 
like  the  hairy  spurge  at  Claverton  Down  and  the  purple 
lobelia  at  Axminster  ;  sometimes  they  spread  over  wide 
areas,  and  hold  their  own  manfully  against  the  intrusive 
Scandinavian  types.  Of  these  curious  phenomena  the 
IM'obable  explanation  is  suggested  in  a  passing  hint  by 
Mr.  "Wallace. 

The  southern  plants  are  probably  relics  of  the  flora 
which  lived  in  Britain  before  the  glacial  epoch.  At  that 
time,  as  our  geologists  are  agreed  in  believing.  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland  formed  part  of  the  continent  of 
Europe,  to  which  they  were  united  by  a  broad  belt  of 
land,  extending  over  the  present  bed  of  the  English 
Channel  and  the  Bay  of  Biscay.  As  the  ice  pushed  its 
M^ay  southward,  the  northern  plants  migrated  before  it  to 
regions  which  were  made  more  flt  for  them  by  the 
change  of  climate  due  to  the  glaciating  conditions. 
Thus  the  arbutus,  the  Mediterranean  heath,  the  various 
warm  types  of  saxifrages,  of  butterwort,  and  of  spurge, 
must  have  had  a  range  from  Killarney  and  Cornwall  to 
the  Pyrenees,  the  Apennines,  and  Crete.  It  is  notice- 
able, too,  that,  according  to  the  map  recently  published 
by  Dr.  Geikie,  the  south-west  of  Ireland  and  England  are 
just  the  parts  of  Britain  which  escaped  glaciation  during 
the  height  of  the  great  ice  age. 

Very  possibly,  however,  these  warmer  plants  may  at 
fli*st  liave  been  driven  quite  southward,  beyond  the  exist- 
ing limits  of  Britain,  but  may  afterward  have  moved 


THK   BEGINNlNab   OF   SPRING. 


23 


northward  again  as  the  ice  melted.  "When  the  connect- 
ing lands  were  washed  away  by  the  waves,  or  submerged 
by  alterations  of  level,  the  arbuius,  the  lobelia,  and  the 
scented  heath  would  be  stranded,  so  to  speak,  in  a  few 
warm  corners  of  England,  Wales,  or  Ireland,  and  would 
be  separated  by  many  miles  from  all  other  specimens  of 
their  race  elsewhere.  In  some  cases,  no  doubt,  they 
would  be  killed  off  by  the  intrusive  Scandinavian  forms, 
which  always  show  a  singular  power  of  living  down  all 
opposition  ;  and  as  still  warmer  types  would  finally  oc- 
cupy the  lowlands  of  southern  France,  when  the  ice  age 
was  quite  over,  it  happens  now  that  these  insulated  plants 
live  in  the  mountain  districts  only — the  Pyrenees,  Au- 
vergne,  and  the  Mediterranean  inlands,  as  well  as  in  the 
hill  regions  of  Kerry  and  Cornwall.  The  warmth  de- 
rived from  the  Gulf  Stream  and  the  insular  position  has 
put  the  west  coasts  of  our  islands  on  a  practical  equality 
with  mountain-countries  many  degrees  south  of  them. 
The  same  climatic  peculiarities  which  make  the  horse- 
chestnuts  bud  a  month  earlier  in  the  valley  below  me 
than  on  the  east  coast  have  enabled  the  hairy  spurges  to 
live  on  for  ages  among  the  combes  and  dells  of  this 
broken  oolitic  down,  in  spite  of  their  total  separation 
from  the  main  body  of  their  congeners  elsewhere.  "Warm 
nooks  like  Bath  and  Bournemouth,  in  fact,  form  as  it 
were  climatic  islands  in  the  midst  of  our  average  British 
temperature  ;  while  in  the  sheltered  spots  of  the  Isle  of 
"Wight  the  Italian  arum  and  the  woodland  calamint  live 
on  as  wild  plants,  whereas  they  have  long  since  been 
totally  extinguished  by  the  cold  in  all  the  rest  of  Eng- 
land. 


IV. 


I   I 


WILD    HYACINTHS. 


The  path  through  the  Fore  Acre  leads  right  across 
Yenlake  by  tortuous  windings  to  the  tangled  covert  and 
bosky  marshland  of  Sedgewood  Copse.  There  is  some- 
thing to  my  mind  very  sweet  and  melodious  about  these 
dear  old-world  English  names.  Most  of  them  go  back 
even  beyond  the  Norman  conquest.  The  Fore  Acre,  for 
example,  is  so  called,  not  because  it  once  contained  four 
acres,  as  the  laborers  will  tell  you,  but  because  it  is  the 
acre  or  field  lying  just  in  front  of  the  old  immemorial 
homestead.  In  early  English  acre  simply  means  field  ; 
its  later  use  as  a  definite  measure  of  area,  instead  of  the 
hide,  is  a  mere  modern  innovation.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
the  size  of  any  particular  Fore  Acre  depends  usually 
upon  the  purest  chance — our  own  here  is  a  very  small 
croft  indeed — and  the  Six  Acres  or  Ten  Acres  of  latter- 
day  farms  are  simply  the  results  of  false  analogy  on  the 
part  of  countrymen  who  have  ministerpreted  the  good 
old  English  phraseology  of  their  forefathere.  For  ten 
centuries,  in  all  probability,  the  farmhouse  and  barton  of 
Shapwick  Farm,  for  the  time  being,  have  stood  on  the 
selfsame  site  that  the  modern  stone  buildings  now  oc- 
cupy ;  and  the  ancient  name  of  the  Fore  Acre  suffi- 
ciently vouches  for  the  fact. 

So,  too,  in  the  word  Venlake  we  have  another  curious 
old  verbal  relic  ;  for  lake  in  our  country  dialect  here- 
abouts means  brook  or  river.  As  to  Sedgewood  Copse, 
that  clearly  derives  its  name  from  its  marshy  nature  ;  for 


WILD   HYACINTHS. 


25 


all  the  lower  part  of  the  wood  along  the  banks  of  Yen- 
lake  is  a  deep  morass  of  spongy  bog,  thickly  and  treach- 
erously carpeted  now  in  spring  with  an  exquisite  green 
pile  of  glossy  liverworts,  pond  weed,  and  brooklime. 
But  In  the  upper  part,  on  the  slope  close  by,  great  masses 
of  wild  hyacinths  are  out  in  blossom,  dyeing  the  whole 
side  of  the  copse  a  brilliant  blue  with  their  dainty  droop- 
ing heads  of  clrstered  flowers.  Blue-bells  we  call  them 
here  in  the  south  ;  but  in  the  north  that  pretty  name  be- 
longs rather  to  the  hare-bell  or  heather-bell,  which  is  the 
true  blue-bell  of  Scotland  and  of  northern  poets,  growing 
abundantly  on  all  the  bleak  heather-clad  hillsides  of  the 
Highlands,  Few  flowers  more  distinctly  mark  an  epoch 
in  the  country  calendar  than  these  same  tall  and  nodding 
English  wild  hyacinths. 

They  blossom  early,  do  the  hyacinths,  because  they 
have  got  a  good  stock  of  material  in  their  bulb  to  go  on 
upon.  Grub  one  up  with  your  stick  from  the  soft  black 
mould  of  the  copse— -they  are  not  deeply  buried,  while 
the  mould  is  anything  but  stiff — and  you  will  see  that  the 
white  bulb  is  large  and  well  filled,  especially  in  the 
younger  budding  specimens.  Cut  it  in  two  with  a  jack- 
knife,  and  a  clammy  white  juice  exudes  from  its  concen- 
tric layers,  rich  in  starches  and  gums  for  the  supply  of 
the  large  thick-petalled  flowers.  These  first  spring  blos- 
soms are  almost  all  bulbous  ;  other^vise  they  would  not 
be  able  to  bloom  so  early  in  the  year.  Black  Dog  Mead 
is  now  all  full  of  buttercups  which  a  townsman  would 
never  know  from  the  summer  kind  ;  for  the  flowers  are 
just  the  same,  and  townsmen  seldom  trouble  their  heads 
about  stems,  or  roots,  or  foliage.  But  the  countryman 
knows  the  two  weeds  apart  right  well,  for  one  is  a  much 
more  troublesome  intruder  in  a  meadow  than  the  other. 
This  early  form  is  the  bulbous  buttercup,  and  it  flowers 


!i 


'* 


26 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


first  just  because  of  its  bulb.  After  it  has  withered  and 
set  its  seed,  the  regular  meadow  buttercups  begin  to  blos- 
som, having  had  time  to  collect  enough  material  for  their 
flowers  meanwhile.  The  leaves  and  root  are  quite  differ- 
ent, and  60  is  the  calyx  ;  and  these  minor  peculiarities 
are,  no  doubt,  correlated  in  some  curious  way  with  the 
various  needs  of  the  two  plants,  though  no  one  can  yet 
tell  us  how. 

It  is  just  the  same  with  the  hyacinth.  Its  long  blade- 
like leaves  laid  by  materials  for  growth  last  summer,  and 
stored  them  up  in  the  bulb  ;  and  that  enables  them  now 
to  steal  a  march  upon  the  annuals  or  thriftless  perennials, 
and  to  entice  the  spring  insects  long  before  tlieir  loiter- 
ing rivals  have  got  out  of  their  buds.  It  is  the  early  bell 
that  catches  the  bee.  Only,  both  flowers  and  insects 
need  to  follow  one  another  in  a  fixed  succession  through- 
out the  year,  or  else  there  would  not  be  food  and  visitors 
for  both.  The  bees,  too,  have  their  calendar.  Their 
year  begins  with  gorse  and  willow  catkins ;  goes  on  to 
primroses  and  hyacinths  ;  continues  with  mint,  thyme, 
rampion,  and  heather  ;  and  finishes  up  at  last  with  hawk- 
weed,  hemp-nettle,  and  meadow-saffron.  Whe^'e  all  the 
bulbs,  roots,  and  tubers  can  find  room  in  the  ground, 
however,  is  a  mystery  ;  for  one  and  'he  same  field  will 
be  thick  with  flowers  all  the  year  rouna,  from  the  celan- 
dines of  spring,  ^vith  their  little  clustered  pill-Uke  nodules, 
through  the  tuberous  orchids  and  thick  white-roc  ted  dan- 
delions of  summer,  to  the  bulbous  squills  and  lady's- 
tresses  of  late  autumn.  "When  one  thinks  of  them  all 
packed  away  side  by  side  in  the  interstices  of  the  stones 
and  grasses,  one  begins  to  understand  what  is  meant  by 
the  struggle  for  life  in  the  world  of  plants. 

The  wild  hyacinth  is  very  essentially  a  bee-flower,  one 
of  the  kinds  which  have  specially  adapted  themselves  to 


WILD  HYACINTHS. 


27 


that  one  peculiar  mode  of  insect  fertilization.  Its  color 
alone  might  give  one  a  hint  of  its  nature  ;  for  blue  is 
the  special  hue  affected  by  bees,  and  developed  for  the 
most  part  by  their  selective  agency.  All  the  simplest 
and  most  primitive  flowers  are  yellow  ;  those  a  little 
above  them  in  the  scale  have  usually  become  white  ; 
those  rather  more  evolved  are  generally  red  or  pink  ; 
and  the  highest  grade  of  all,  the  blossoms  peculiarly 
modified  for  bees  and  butterflies,  are  almost  always  blue 
or  purple.  jJ^ow,  one  cannot  look  closely  at  a  wild  hya- 
cinth without  perceiving  that  it  has  undergone  a  good 
deal  of  modification.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  very  high  type  of 
its  own  class.  It  belongs  to  that  great  family  of  flowers 
whose  parts  were  originally  arranged  in  rows  of  threes  ; 
but  this  original  arrangement  it  almost  seems  at  first  sight 
to  have  doubled.  Count  the  parts,  and  you  will  find 
that  It  has  now  six  blue  petals,  with  six  stamens,  one 
stamen  being  gummed  on,  as  it  were,  to  each  petal ; 
while  in  the  middle  there  is  a  single  unripe  pale-blue 
seed-vessel.  But  in  the  primitive  ancestor  of  all  these 
trinary  flowers — one  half  of  all  flowering  plants — there 
were  three  calyx  pieces,  three  petals,  three  outer  sta- 
mens, three  inner  stamens,  and  three  seed-vessels.  How, 
then,  are  we  to  account  for  these  divergences  in  the 
modern  wild  hyacinth  ? 

"Why,  if  one  looks  closely  it  does  not  require  much 
imagination  to  see  the  threefold  arrangement  still  in  full 
force,  very  little  masked  by  small  modifications.  A 
pocket-knife  will  often  clear  up  a  great  many  of  these 
difficulties  ;  and  if  the  unripe  seed-vessel  of  the  wild 
hyacinth  be  cut  in  two,  the  section  at  once  shows  that  it 
consists  of  three  cells,  united  at  their  edges,  and  each 
full  of  seeds.  As  Mrs.  Malaprop  would  say,  it  is  really 
three  distinct  seed-vessels  rolled  into  one.     Such  union 


28 


COLIN   CLOUT^S   CALENDAR. 


of  the  carpels  (as  tliey  are  called  technically)  is  always  a 
common  concomitant  of  high  development,  and  goes  to- 
gether with  improved  means  of  fertilization.  In  simpler 
allied  forms,  such  as  the  water-plantain,  the  three* carpels 
remain  always  distinct ;  but  in  the  more  advanced  lily 
family,  to  which  the  wild  hyacinth  belongs,  they  have 
universally  coalesced  into  a  single  three-celled  capsule. 
In  autumn,  however,  when  the  capsule  is  ripe,  it  splits 
into  three  parts  to  shed  the  little  shiny  black  seeds,  and 
then  clearly  manifests  its  original  character. 

Outside  this  triple  fniit  we  get  six  stamens  ;  but  if 
you  look  close  you  can  see  that  they  are  in  two  alternate 
rows  of  three  each,  one  set  being  a  good  deal  longer  than 
the  other.  The  stamens  have  grown  almost  into  one 
piece  with  the  blue  pteals  ;  yet  the  inner  set  have  coa- 
lesced less  thoroughly  than  the  outer,  for  you  can  pull 
the  three  shorter  ones  oif,  but  not  the  three  longer  ones. 
Their  coalescence  is  another  device  to  insure  more  per- 
fect fertilization,  and  to  make  the  pollen  adhere  more 
certainly  to  the  visiting  bees  than  in  other  flowers.  Out- 
side all  we  get  the  six  blue  petals,  three  of  which  are 
really  calyx  pieces,  indistinguishable  in  color  and  shape 
from  the  true  petals,  but  recognizable  as  to  their  real 
nature  by  two  signs — first,  that  they  slightly  overlap  the 
others,  and  secondly  that  they  have  the  long  stamens  of 
tlie  outer  row  opposite  to  them  and  combined  with 
them.  In  all  the  lilies  the  calyx  pieces  and  petals  are 
very  much  alike  and  similarly  colored  ;  but  in  the  wild 
hyacinth  the  similarity  is  even  closer  than  elsewhere. 
This  is  doubtless  due  to  the  shape  of  the  flower,  which, 
in  order  to  accommodate  its  favorite  bees,  closely  simu- 
lates a  true  tubular  blossom,  like  the  Canterbury  bell. 
At  first  sight,  indeed,  one  might  almost  take  it  for  such 
a  perfect  tube  ;  but  when  you  pull  it  to  pieces,  you  see 


WILD  HYACINTHS. 


that  the  six  apparent  petals  are  really  distinct,  though 
they  converge  so  as  practically  to  form  a  bell-flower, 
with  a  tiny  drop  of  honey  glistening  at  its  base.  In  the 
true  hyacinths  of  our  gardens  the  six  pieces  have  ac- 
tually coalesced  into  a  solid  and  well-soldered  tube, 
which  marks  a  still  higher  level  of  adaptation  to  insect 
visits  ;  and  even  our  own  wild  species  shows  a  slight  ten- 
dency in  the  same  direction,  for  its  pieces  are  often  very 
shortly  united  together  at  the  bottom.  It  is  from  such 
small  beginnings  as  this  that  selective  agency  slowly  pro- 
duces the  greatest  changes  ;  and  perhaps  after  the  lapse 
of  many  ages  our  own  wild  hyacinths  may  become  really 
tubular  too,  under  the  modifying  influence  of  insect 
selection.  But  at  present  the  frequent  recurrence  of 
white  varieties — a  probable  reversion  to  some  earlier  type 
— ^proves  that  our  native  plant  is  still  far  from  having 
completely  adapted  itself  even  to  its  present  level  of  in- 
sect fertilization.  Thoroughly  well-established  and  an- 
cient species  do  not  throw  back  so  easily  or  so  often  to 
less-advanced  ancestral  forms. 


V. 


THE  TROUT  JUMP. 


Poor  little  May-flies  on  the  pools  of  Venlake,  you 
have  at  best  but  a  hard  life  of  it !  Though  your  wings 
are  fairy-like  and  light  as  gauze,  though  the  sunshine 
plays  upon  your  dancing  bodies  with  opalescent  hues, 
though  you  spend  3'our  time  merrily  enough  to  all  seem- 
iiig  in  flitting  and  flirting  b^'  the  cool  rivulet,  yet  is  your 
appointed  span  but  twenty-four  hours  long,  and  even  for 
that  short  space  your  courtship  and  your  maternity  is 
environed  with  manifold  dangers  and  endless  foes.  You 
pass  your  days  between  the  Scylla  of  sunshine  and  the 
Charybdis  ox  cloudy  skies.  "When  the  sun  shone  yester- 
day, you  were  devoured  in  the  midst  of  your  love-mak- 
ing by  the  gay  swallows  ;  when  the  clouds  cover  the 
heaven  to-day,  1  see  the  trout  are  leaping  to  engulf  you 
as  you  try  in  vain  to  lay  your  eggs  in  peace  and  quiet  on 
the  calm  surface  of  *he  water.  The  fish  can  see  you 
quite  enough  against  the  background  canopy  of  cloud, 
and  there  is  nothing  they  love  better  for  their  morning 
meal  than  a  good  fat  mother  May-fly. 

I  wonder  very  much  what  thoughts  pass  through  the 
heads  of  these  jumping  trout  as  they  gaze  up  eagerly  tow- 
ard the  vast  white  sheet  above  them,  just  dappled  here 
and  there  by  the  little  spot  of  darkness  that  forms  to 
them  the  visible  symbol  of  an  eatable  insect.  One  of 
the  great  dangers,  indeed,  which  surround  the  path  of 
scientific  psychology  is  that  of  being  too  exclusively 
human.     Here  more  than  anywhere  else  in  science  the 


THE  TROUT  JUMP. 


81 


old  Greek  doctrine  that  man  is  the  measure  of  all 
things  seems  especially  to  beset  us  on  every  side. 
Our  own  consciousness  being  the  only  consciousness 
which  we  can  experimentally  examine,  we  are  pecul- 
iarly liable  to  accept  its  component  elements  as  being 
the  component  elements  of  all  other  consciousness 
whatsoever.  It  is  very  hard — some  philosophers  have 
even  told  us  it  ic  impossible — to  construct  a  comparative 
psychology,  as  we  can  construct  a  comparative  osteology 
of  a  comparative  philology.  All  the  other  minds  about 
which  we  can  obtain  even  the  pscond-hand  information 
given  us  by  language  are  still  human  minds  ;  and  for  the 
animal  consciousness  generally  we  are  reduced  to  very 
inferential  and  do^abtful  data. 

Yet  even  here  a  good  deal  can  be  done  by  careful  sift- 
ing of  facts,  if  only  we  know  what  facts  to  sift.  The 
general  principle  of  nihil  est  in  intellectu  stands  us  in 
good  stead  when  once  we  have  been  able  to  discover 
what  was  before  in  sensu ;  and  this  we  can  often  do 
provided  we  take  the  trouble  to  follow  out  all  the  hints 
supplied  us  by  the  nervous  system  and  by  the  habits  or 
peculiarities  of  animals.  In  some  fishes,  for  instance, 
there  is  every  indication  of  the  preponderance  of  smell 
over  sight  as  an  intellectual  and  guiding  sense.  In  the 
sharks  and  rays  the  membrane  of  the  nose  is  enormously 
developed  ;  the  olfactory  nerve  is  by  far  the  largest  and 
most  important  in  the  body  ;  the  central  organs  directly 
or  indirectly  connected  with  it  form  the  main  mass  of 
the  brain  ;  and  the  indications  of  habit,  as  well  as  the 
sniffing-muscles  attached  to  the  nostrils,  all  go  to  show 
that  smell  is  really  the  chief  sense-endowment  of  these 
predatory  species.  On  the  other  hand,  their  eyes  are 
relatively  small  and  poorly  developed,  their  optic  nerves 
and  lobes  are  unimportant,  and  the  general  indications 


32 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


li 


(about  which  it  is  only  possible  here  to  speak  negatively) 
do  not  lead  one  to  suppose  that  sight  is  a  sense  of  much 
practical  value  to  the  sharks  and  rays.  There  are  other 
classes  of  fish,  however,  in  which  sight  seems  to  play 
a  far  more  important  part,  and  here  it  is  perhaps 
possible  to  institute  some  rough  comparison  as  to  rela- 
tive perfection  with  the  case  of  the  human  eye  and 
brain. 

The  class  of  fish  in  which  the  eye  is  apparently  best 
developed  is  that  of  the  teleosteans,  to  which  belong  the 
perch,  salmon,  cod,  sole,  turbot,  and  generally  speaking 
almost  all  the  best-known  and  edible  species,  including 
the  trout  of  Venlake.  These  fish  are  comparatively  late 
arrivals  in  our  oceans  and  rivers,  when  we  judge  by  a 
geological  standard  ;  but  they  have  rapidly  lived  do"svn 
the  great  ganoids  which  preceded  them,  and  have  reduced 
the  shark  family  and  the  lampreys  to  a  few  predatory  or 
parasitic  species.  Externally  and  stnicturally  they  differ 
in  many  particulars  from  all  the  other  classes  of  fish, 
which  are  now  represented  only  by  a  relatively  small 
number  of  survivors  ;  but  on  the  psychological  side  they 
differ  most  conspicuously  in  this  particular — that,  while 
the  remaining  ganoids,  sharks,  and  lampreys  all  show 
signs  of  depending  mainly  upon  smell,  their  modem 
superseders  show  signs  of  depending  mainly  upon  sight. 
The  eye  of  these  fishes  is  large  and  fairly  developed  ;  the 
optic  nerves  are  big,  and  arranged  in  the  same  manner  as 
among  the  higher  animals  ;  and  the  optic  centres  form 
by  far  the  largest  portion  of  the  brain.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  olfactory  nerves  and  centres  are  small  and 
shrivelled.  The  indications  of  habit  are  certainly  rather 
inferential,  yet  they  all  point  in  the  same  direction  as 
these  structural  facts. 

Most  common  fish  certainly  find  their  food  mainly  by 


THE  TUOUT  JUM1». 


i» 


means  of  sight.  The  careful  way  in  which  it  a  lu  -o^- 
pury  to  imitate  flies  in  order  to  deceive  the  wary  \r(f*% 
shows  that  they  can  pretty  accurately  distinguisli  fornm 
and  colors.  The  rapidity  and  certainty  with  which  other 
fish  will  rise  to  an  artificial  minnow  on  a  troUingj-line 
sufficiently  proves  the  rapidity  of  their  perceptions.  The 
imitative  devices  or  mimicry  which  exist  among  many 
species  similarly  prove  how  sharp  are  the  eyes  of  their 
enemies  ;  for  these  resemblances  can  only  have  been  de- 
veloped in  order  to  deceive  the  senses  of  other  fishes, 
and  would  not,  of  course,  go  beyond  the  point  at  which 
they  proved  useful  to  the  species.  All  flatfish  closely 
imitate  the  colors  and  arrangement  of  the  sand  or  peb- 
bles on  which  they  lie  ;  and  it  is  often  difticult  even  for 
a  human  eye  to  detect  a  solo  or  a  flounder  in  an  aqua- 
rium, although  one  may  be  perfectly  sure  that  it  is  to  be 
found  at  tiie  bottom  of  a  particular  tank.  Some  of 
them  have  special  pigment  cells,  like  those  of  the  chame- 
leon, which  they  squeeze  out  in  varying  proportions  till 
they  exactly  resemble  their  surroundings  ;  and  as  this 
action  ceases  when  the  fish  is  blind,  it  shows  that  the 
protected  fish  themselves,  as  well  as  their  enemies,  are 
conscious  of  minute  differences  in  form  and  color.  All 
the  animals  which  inhabit  the  sargasso  weed  are  also  col- 
ored exactly  like  it,  and  so  closely  imitate  it  in  many 
ways  that  I  have  often  narrowly  examined  a  piece  of  the 
weed  freshly  brought  up  in  a  bucket,  and  yet  failed  to 
detect  any  sign  of  life  till  1  lifted  the  spray  from  the 
water  and  so  compelled  the  hide-aways  to  reveal  them- 
selves. There  is  one  pipe-fish,  indeed,  from  the  Austra- 
lian coasts,  which  so  exactly  mimics  the  fucus  in  which 
it  lurks  that  nobody  would  believe  it  is  a  fish  rather  than 
a  branch  of  the  weed  round  which  it  curls,  until  he  has 
dissected  it.     The  necessity  for  such  close  resemblances 


COLIX   clout's   (;AL£NDAU. 


t. 


^ 


is  tlie  oest  possible  proof  of  acute  sight  in  fishes  exactly 
analogous  to  our  own. 

That  this  faculty  of  vision  includes  a  perception  of 
color  as  well  as  form  is  shown  by  the  same  facts  ;  but 
there  are  other  facts  which  seem  to  indicate  it  yet  more 
clearly.  The  teleosteans,  which  possess  these  developed 
eyes  and  optic  centres,  are  the  only  fish  in  which  Mr. 
Darwin  hau  noted  the  occurrence  of  ornamental  colors  or 
appendages,  due,  as  he  believes,  to  selective  preferences 
on  the  part  of  the  animals  themselves.  It  is  curious, 
too,  that  all  the  indirect  proofs  of  color-sense  in  fishes 
occur  among  this  same  group.  The  ornamental  colors 
generally  coexist  with  very  excitable  tempers,  as  is  also 
the  case  with  such  higher  animals  as  the  mandrill,  the 
peacock,  and  the  humming-birds  ;  and  in  the  little  fight- 
ing-fish kept  as  pets  by  the  Siamese,  the  brilliant  hues 
are  only  displayed  on  the  appearance  of  a  rival  or  of  the 
fish's  own  reflection  in  a  mirror.  The  moment  the  little 
creature  sees  another  of  his  own  kind,  he  exhibits  all  his 
coloring,  and  rushes  against  his  enemy  covered  with 
metallic  tints,  and  waving  his  projected  gills  like  the 
wattles  of  a  turkey-cock.  Almost  all  the  most  beauti- 
fully colored  fish  are  coral  feeders,  dwelling  among  the 
reefs  and  feeding  off  the  bright  polypes  and  other  beauti- 
ful creatures  which  abound  in  tropical  seas. 

This  case  is  again  quite  r>aralleled  by  that  of  birds  and 
insects  ;  for  the  most  gayly  colored  species,  like  the  but- 
terflies, rose-beetles,  humming-birds,  parrots,  loris,  and 
toucans,  are  flower-feeders  or  fruit-eaters  ;  and  we  may 
well  suppose  that  in  every  case  a  taste  for  color  has  been 
aroused  in  the  creatures  themselves  during  their  constant 
intercourse  with  brilliant  surroundings  and  their  con- 
tinual quest  for  brilliant  kinds  of  food.  There  seems  to 
be,  in  fact,  a  regular  gradation  of  color-sense  and  color- 


THE  TROUT  JUMP. 


35 


beauty  in  fishes,  the  most  highly  perceptive  being  them- 
selves apparently  the  most  ornamented.     There  is  also  a 
similar  gradation  of  general  sight-faculties  :  from  the 
case  of  a  tropical  shore-fish  which  can  thrust  its  mov- 
able eyes  out  of  their  sockets,  and  which  hunts  crusta- 
ceans  out  of  water  on  mud-flats  at  ebb  tide,  or  of  an  open- 
sea  fish  which  swims  half  above  the  surface,  and  has  its 
eyes  divided  horizontally  into  two  portions,  one  adapted 
for  vision  in  air  and  the  other  in  water—to  the  blind 
fishes  of  the  Mammoth  Cave  and  of  the  marine  abysses 
revealed  to  us  by  the  explorers  in  the  Challenger.     From 
all  these  converging  indications  it  is  perhaps  possible  to 
make  a  nearer  guess  at  the  visual  faculties  of  fishes  than 
most  people  would  be  at  first  sight  inclined  to  suspect. 


VI. 


CATKINS   AND   ALMOND-BLOSSOM. 


Ill- 


^.V 


In  spite  of  the  renewal  of  winter  weather,  the  trees 
and  flowers  are  still  pushing  on  amain.  Snow  has  fallen 
again,  but  there  has  been  a  time  of  sunshine  since  ;  and 
though  the  air  is  keen,  the  leaves  and  bursting  buds  seem 
to  be  drinking  in  the  sunlight  at  all  their  pores.  Ani- 
mals have  felt  the  brusque  change  more  than  plants.  A 
blackbird's  nest  had  already  two  eggs  in  it  a  week  ago, 
but  1  fear  the  after  frosts  destroyed  them.  The  early 
lambs  look  woe-begone  as  they  straggle  aimlessly  across 
the  damp  fields,  too  cold  to  lie  down  and  too  tired  to 
keep  themselves  warm  by  frisking  about ;  and  many  of 
the  younger  ones  will  suffer  sorely.  Farmers  say,  in 
their  matter-of-fact  way,  that  the  lambing  will  turn  out 
a  failure  ;  and  what  a  world  of  misery  to  the  poor  beasts 
themselves  those  hard  business  words  cover  with  their 
cold  phraseology.  On  the  other  hand,  the  plants  and 
trees  for  the  most  part  seem  none  the  worse  for  the 
change.  The  wind  has  cut  off  the  crocuses  in  a  body, 
but  the  lilacs  are  unfolding  their  leaves  faster  than  ever, 
the  hedges  are  green  in  a  mass  on  sheltered  southern  as- 
pects, and  ti:;e  flowenng  almonds  have  their  naked  boughs 
covered  with  clustering  branches  of  delicate  pinky-white 
blossom,  standing  out  in  true  Japanesque  relief  against 
the  bold  background  of  the  deep- blue  sky. 

They  are  hardly  pretty,  these  flowering  almonds  and 
other  masses  of  spring  bloom  on  leafless  trees ;  they 
sadly  lack  the  natural  accompaniment  of  green  foliage. 


CATKINS  AND   ALMOND-BLOSSOM. 


37 


P^ 


to  which  our  eyes  are  so  accustomed  that  the  two  together 
form  for  us  what  Mr.  Whistler  would  doubtless  call  a 
native  symphony  in  pink  and  green.  Each  individual 
blossom  is  beautiful  in  itself — I  mean  in  the  graceful 
and  undistorted  single  almond  ;  for  the  double-flowering 
monstrosity,  with  its  simple  natural  symmetry  lost  in  a 
bunchy  rosette  of  indistinguishable  tags,  is  unlovely  to 
the  botanical  eye.  Each  single  five-petalled  blossom  is 
beautiful  in  itself,  I  say  ;  and  even  a  tall  spray  of  them 
deftly  displayed  in  a  vase  against  a  contrasting  back- 
ground is  effective  enough,  as  those  same  cunning  Japa- 
nese artists  long  ago  found  out,  with  their  usual  quick  eye 
for  color-harmonies  ;  but  on  the  tree,  growing  all  to- 
gether, they  have  a  certain  bare  and  poverty-stricken 
appearance  as  they  cling  tightly  to  their  naked  stems, 
which  always  suggests  the  notion  that  they  are  pitiably 
cold  and  want  a  few  leaves  to  keep  them  warm.  So, 
bright  and  spring-like  as  they  are,  they  cannot  be  con- 
sidered exactly  pretty — at  least  from  a  little  distance,  or 
imless  one  stands  close  beneath  the  branches  so  as  to 
isolate  a  few  sprays  in  bold  relief  against  the  retiring 
sky. 

This  habit,  in  which  so  many  spring  plants  and  trees 
indulge — ^the  habit  of  sending  up  their  flower-stalks  or 
opening  their  blossom  before  they  put  out  any  of  their 
leaves — is  a  curious  and  interesting  one.  It  is,  indeed, 
far  more  common  than  casual  observers  would  be  in- 
clined to  imagine  ;  for  the  majority  of  spring-flowering 
trees  have  their  blossoms  in  those  large  yet  inconspicuous 
masses  which  we  call  catkins  ;  while  others,  like  the 
elms,  have  them  in  dense  clusters,  so  closely  seated  on 
the  boughs  that  comparatively  few  passers-by  notice 
them.  Almost  all  our  larger  native  trees  are  catkin- 
bearers  —  oaks,   alders,  birches,  hazel,    beech,   sallow, 


!i 


38 


COLIN  CLOUT*S  CALENDAR. 


1 


osier,  poplar,  and  aspen  ;  but  only  a  few  of  them  have 
catkins  which  attract  much  attention,  the  silvery  white 
knobs  of  the  willow  family  and  a  few  others  being  the 
only  ones  which  most  people  pick  in  spring  among  the 
woods.  Kone  of  our  own  English  trees  has  such  a  brill- 
iant spring  blossom  as  the  flowering-almond,  but  among 
southern  plants  similar  masses  of  early  bloom  are  not 
uncommon. 

In  every  case  the  reason  for  the  flower  preceding  tbe 
leaves  seems  to  be  the  same.  It  is  in  principle  a  chapter 
of  natural  economy,  and  it  illustrates  very  well  the  way 
in  which  all  nature  is  necessarily  compelled  to  piece  in 
with  itself  in  every  part.  The  catkin-bearing  plants  are 
chiefly,  if  not  always,  wind-fertilized  ;  and  they  have 
their  stamens  on  one  tree  and  their  pistils  on  another, 
thus  insuring  the  highest  possible  degree  of  cross-fertili- 
zation. They  produce  enormous  quantities  of  pollen, 
which  they  require,  owing  to  the  distance  that  often  in- 
tervenes between  one  tree  and  another,  and  the  wasteful 
nature  of  the  wind  as  a  carrier  ;  and  this  pollen  falls 
from  them  as  a  copious  yellow  powder  when  they  are 
placed  in  a  vase  on  a  table,  while  it  can  be  shaken  in 
great  quantities  from  the  trees  themselves.  If  the  cat- 
kins did  not  come  out  till  the.  branches  were  all  covered 
with  foliage,  their  chance  of  fertilization  would  be  very 
slight ;  for  the  leaves  would  interfere  with  the  passage 
of  the  pollen.  But  by  coming  out  in  early  spring,  be- 
fore the  foliage  has  begun  to  burst  its  buds,  and  when 
the  winds  are  strongest,  the  catkins  stand  the  best  possi- 
ble chance  of  fulfilling  their  special  functions.  A  March 
nor'-easter  whistling  through  the  naked  boughs  is  almost 
sure  to  carry  a  grain  or  two  at  least  of  the  golden  dust 
from  ono  tree  to  the  other,  and  so  enable  the  alders, 
beeches,  and  hornbeams  to  set  their  seed  in  safety. 


iJATKJNS    AM)    ALM0N1)-BJ.08S0M. 


yw 


With  the  crocuses  and  ahnonds  the  case  is  somewhat 
different,  yet  alike  in  ultimate  priucipl  .  These  are 
insect-fertilized  flowers,  and  by  flowering  so  early  they 
catch  the  bees  in  the  beginning  of  spring.  For,  on  the 
one  hand,  the  bees  must  have  a  succession  of  blossoms 
all  the  year  round  (except  in  midwinter),  or  they  could 
never  get  on  at  all ;  and  the  very  existence  of  insect-fer- 
tilized flowers  as  a  body  depends  upon  a  tacit  agreement 
between  them — so  to  speak — not  to  interfere  with  one 
another,  but  to  keep  a  continual  supply  for  the  bees  and 
buttei'flies  from  month  to  month  ;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  flowers  themselves  need  each  a  time  when  they 
can  depend  upon  receiving  their  fair  share  in  the  atten- 
tions of  the  insects  or  else  they  might  never  set  their 
seeds  at  all.  Some  few  of  these  early  blossoms,  hke 
crocuses  and  primroses,  have  leaves  which  can  stand  the 
frosts  of  March  ;  but  others,  like  the  elm  and  almond, 
have  more  delicate  foliage,  which  consequently  comes 
out  much  later  in  the  season.  All  these  spring-flower- 
ing plants  lay  by  material  somehow  or  other  the  sum- 
mer before  their  next  year's  blossoms.  The  primrose 
has  its  store  of  food-stuff  in  its  thick  and  fleshy  root- 
stock  ;  the  crocus  and  the  autumn-saffron  in  their  bulbs  ; 
the  catkin-bearing  trees,  the  elm  and  the  alm^d,  in 
their  inner  bark  and  woody  tissues.  Trees,  indeed,  have 
an  immense  advantage  in  their  huge  perennial  trunks ; 
for,  before  the  foliage  falls  m  autumn,  they  withdraw 
all  the  useful  material  from  the  dying  leaves,  storing  it 
away  in  their  permanent  tissues  ;  and  so  almost  all  of 
them  are  enabled  to  flower  vigorously  in  spring  before 
any  other  plants,  except  the  hoarders  which  possess 
bulbs,  have  been  able  to  anticipate  them. 


HS 


'1  > 


VII. 


SPRING    FLOWERS. 


.11 


1 


M 


I  < 

i 


"Walking  down  the  avenue  the  other  day,  I  noticed 
liow  the  elms  that  line  its  sides  and  the  flowering 
almonds  dotted  about  on  the  shrubbery  were  all  in  full 
bloom  long  before  the  ordinary  small  plants  could  ven- 
ture to  peep  out ;  and  I  could  not  help  observing  that 
this  habit  of  early  blossoming  was  closely  dependent 
upon  the  great  size  and  perennial  trunks  of  the  larger 
trees.  They  are  enabled  by  means  of  their  old  wood  to 
store  up  in  their  permanent  tissues  the  organized  mate- 
rial necessary  for  the  production  of  flowers ;  and  so 
they  get  a  good  start  of  all  their  leas  fortunate  neighbors 
and  come  in  for  the  first  attentions  of  the  spring  bees 
and  butterflies.  To-day,  however,  out  in  the  deep  lane 
which  runs  through  Walcombe  Vale,  the  similar  efforts 
of  the  smaller  plants  are  forced  upon  my  notice.  There 
are  already  some  half-dozen  flowers  to  be  seen  on  the 
high  bank  that  bounds  the  lane  or  in  the  meadows  on 
either  side  ;  and  every  one  of  these  flowers  has  some 
special  device  of  its  own  which  enables  it  to  come  out 
thus  early  in  the  season,  before  many  of  its  near  allies 
have  begun  to  sprout  from  the  swelling  seed.  It  is  a 
general  characteristic  of  all  the  first  snring  blossoms  that 
they  appear  either  before  their  leaves,  or  else  while  the 
leaves  are  still  only  half  developed  ;  and  of  course  such 
a  habit  implies  that  material  for  their  growth  has  already 
been  laid  by  elsewhere.  For  flowers  are  mere  expenders 
of  food,  not  accmnulators  of  food  on  their  own  account. 


SPRING   FLOWERS. 


41 


The  leaves  are  the  only  part  of  the  plant  which  can  build 
up  fresh  organized  matter ;  and  the  matter  composing 
every  flower  has  been  sent  to  it  by  the  leaves,  either  im- 
mediately, as  in  most  annuals,  or  through  the  storehouse 
of  a  root,  stem,  or  tuber,  as  in  most  perennials.  A 
hyacinth-bulb  is  a  good  and  familiar  instance  of  such  a 
storehouse. 

Here,  for  example,  among  the  shady  greenery  of  the 
hank  I  can  gather  numberless  flowering  heads  of  the 
perennial  mercury — a  queer  little  three-cornered  green 
flower,  with  copious  clusters  of  its  tiny  feathery  blos- 
soms hanging  out  upon  long  and  graceful  stalklets. 
This  mercury  has  a  permanent  creeping  root-stock,  in 
which  it  lays  by  during  the  summer  and  autumn  the 
material  needed  for  its  next  year's  bloom  ;  and  so  it  can 
come  out  abundantly  in  the  early  spring  before  the  shiny 
green  leaves  are  yet  fully  opened.  On  the  other  hand, 
its  very  close  ally,  the  annual  mercury,  grows  afresh 
from  the  seed  every  season,  and  therefore  it  has  not 
accumulated  enough  capital  to  begin  flowering  until  the 
late  summer  and  autmnn  months.  Yonder,  again,  on 
the  slope  of  the  hill  in  the  Fore  Acre,  I  see  a  pale  bunch 
of  primroses,  their  short  stalks  all  tightly  clinging  to  the 
root-stock,  in  which  the  material  for  their  growth  has 
been  kept  safely  through  the  dangers  of  winter  ;  and  if 
you  tear  up  the  stock,  you  will  see  that  it  is  large  and 
starchy,  though  it  does  not  acutally  form  a  tuber,  as  in 
its  near  and  more  brilliant  relative,  the  cyclamen.  Fur- 
ther on,  the  railway  embankment  is  all  yellow  with  the 
tall  gaunt-looking  scapes  and  tufted  flower-heads  of  the 
coltsfoot,  a  yet  more  significant  and  interesting  plant. 
The  coltsfoot  is  a  sort  of  fluffy  ragwort,  which  sends  up 
from  its  perennial  starchy  root  a  number  of  solitary, 
stiff,   straight,   cottony  stems  at  the  flrst  promise  of 


42 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


m 


if 


! 


spring,  each  ending  in  a  single  golden  head,  out  without 
any  foliage  except  some  small  brownish  scales,  much  like 
those  of  sprouting  asparagus  shoots.  After  the  blossoms 
are  all  over,  the  large  woolly  leaves  begin  to  appear,  and 
occupy  themselves  during  the  summer  in  collecting 
starch  over  again  to  fill  the  root  for  next  spring's  flower- 
heads.  At  my  feet,  once  more,  I  see  a  mass  of  bright 
glossy  heart-shaped  leaves,  interspersed  with  the  brilliant 
yellow  blossoms  of  the  smaller  celandine — *'  gilt-cups" 
the  village  children  call  them  ;  and  the  celandine  also 
enforces  the  same  principle.  It  is  one  of  the  earliest 
flowers  to  appear  in  spring  ;  while  most  of  its  congeners, 
the  crowfoots  and  buttercups,  do  not  show  themselves 
till  July  or  August ;  and  if  you  grub  it  up  you  will  soon 
see  the  reason  why.  The  buttercups  have  simple  thread- 
like roots  ;  but  the  lesser  celandine  has  a  lot  of  roundish 
mealy  tubes,  which  it  renews  from  year  to  year,  and 
which  form  the  reserve-fund  on  which  it  draws  for  its 
early  blossoms.  These  habits  of  storing  starchy  food- 
stuffs are  to  certain  plants  just  what  the  analogous  habits 
of  laying  by  honey,  hoarding  nuts,  or  gathering  grain  are 
to  the  bee,  the  squirrel,  and  the  harvesting  ants,  among 
animals. 

Turning  fromi  these  little  wayside  blossoms  to  the  large 
and  conspicuous  spring  flowers,  such  as  the  daffodil,  the 
narcissus,  the  snowdrop,  the  hyacinth,  and  the  crocus, 
one  cannot  help  observing  at  once  that  they  are  all  with- 
out exception  bulbous  plants.  Their  large  showy  heads 
of  bloom  require  far  more  expenditure  of  raw  material 
than  the  tiny  green  flowers  of  the  mercury,  the  thin 
pellucid  rays  of  the  primrose,  or  even  the  bright  golden 
corolla  of  the  lesser  celandine.  Moreover,  if  you  look 
closely  at  most  of  these  bulbous  blossoms,  you  will  see 
that  they  h.;ve  very  thick  and  fleshy  petals,  quite  differ- 


8PRIKQ   FLOWERS. 


48 


ent  from  the  light  papery  petals  of  the  wood  anemone  or 
the  violet.  This  fleshiness  is  very  well  exemplified  in 
the  hyacinth,  the  tulip,  and  the  tiger-lily — all  of  them 
thick  and  stout  blossoms,  which  flaunt  their  colors  bold- 
ly in  the  sunlight,  and  are  little  afraid  of  either  wind 
or  rain.  Throughout  "the  whole  of  nature,  1  believe, 
you  will  never  find  a  brilliant  mass  of  heavy  bloom 
on  a  strictly  annual  plant ;  and  all  the  more  massive 
forms  are  provided  for  beforehand  by  means  of  bulbs, 
conns,  or  tubers.  Such  are  the  water-lilies,  lotus,  dah- 
lias, orcliids,  iris,  gladiolus,  tuberose,  arum,  amaryllis, 
fritillary,  saffron,  tulip,  and  almost  all  lilies.  On  the 
other  hand,  whenever  you  find  a  single  comparatively 
inconspicuous  plant  among  these  families — as,  for  exam- 
ple, Solomon's  seal,  with  its  small  drooping  greenish- 
white  blossoms — one  is  sure  to  find  abo  that  it  is  a  bulb- 
less  an  lual. 

Nearly  all  the  other  very  conspicuous  flowers  are 
shrubby  or  arboreal  in  habit,  and  so  get  "i^^eir  working 
capital  from  the  store  laid  up  in  the  stem  by  last  year's 
leaves  :  as  in  the  case  of  the  cherry,  apple,  hawthorn, 
pyrus  japonica,  lilac,  rose,  laburnum,  and  all  the  great 
tropical  flowering  trees.  None  of  these  ever  flower  until 
after  many  years  of  foliage  ;  and  if  the  flower-buds  are 
nipped  off  when  the  trees  are  young  and  first  begin  to 
bud,  more  food-stuffs  are  laid  by  to  produce  finer  heads 
of  bloom  in  later  years.  In  the  case  of  these  alders  here 
(which,  however,  being  wind-fertilized,  need  make  no 
special  display),  we  can  actually  see  where  the  catkins 
come  from  ;  for  they  were  formed  last  autumn,  and  have 
hung  on  the  trees  unopened  through  the  whole  winter, 
so  as  to  catch  the  very  first  chance  of  sunshine  in  the  be- 
ginning of  spring.  So  far  as  my  observation  goes,  very 
few  annuals  or  other  nnafded  plants  ever  have  conspicu- 


■f'l 


44 


coLin"  clout's  calendar. 


tl' 


1  i'  I . 


1      :|. 


i  1 


0U8  flowers  ;  and  those  few  generally  produce  their  blos- 
soms late  in  the  season,  after  the  leaves  have  had  plenty 
of  time  to  make  preparations  for  feeding  them.  Even 
these  rare  exceptions  are  very  deceptive  and  papery 
flowers,  like  the  poppies  or  the  hand-to-mouth  convolvu- 
luses, which  manage  to  make  a  great  deal  of  show  at 
very  little  real  expense.  They  spend  all  they  have  on  a 
little  gaudy  color,  thinly  spread  over  an  extremely  large 
flat  surface. 


i.-ti 


I 

i 
li 


VIll. 


RHUBARB    SPROUTS. 


The  beds  of  the  kitchen  garden  at  tlio  present  mo- 
ment unintentionally  afford  an  admirable  illustration  of 
the  main  principle  upon  which  most  natural  coloring 
Beems  to  depend.  In  their  really  beautiful  display  of 
bright  and  gracefully  graduated  tints  they  supply  us  with 
a  picture  which,  but  for  its  familiar  utilitarian  character, 
everybody  would  stop  to  observe  and  admire.  There 
are  long  sticks  of  rhubarb,  ruddy  ciimson  below,  and 
merging  through  delicate  gradations  of  pink  and  white 
into  the  golden  yellow  of  the  cramped  and  etiolated 
leaves  above.  There  is  sea-kale,  blanched  in  the  stem, 
and  unfolding  at  the  blade  into  crinkled  shoots  of  an  in- 
describable but  very  dainty  pale  mauve  or  violet.  There 
are  beet-roots,  sprouting  with  dark  Tyrian  red  leaves, 
wliosQ  purplish  veins  persist  even  in  the  greening  later 
foliage.  Almost  every  one  of  the  spring  plants  has 
more  or  less  of  these  bright  hues,  marking  them  off  at 
once  from  the  common  green  of  full-blown  summer 
leaves.  Even  on  the  asparagus  one  may  observe  a  set  of 
little  bluish  scales  ;  while  the  young  tufts  upon  the 
carrots  are  pale  yellow  or  golden  brown.  The  reason 
throughout  is  a  very  simple  one  :  all  these  spring  vegeta- 
bles are  perennials  grown  from  a  permanent  root-stock  ; 
and  in  some  cases  they  have  been  more  or  less  blanched, 
naturally  or  artificially,  by  growing  underneath  a  loose 
mass  of  heaped-up  earth.  If  one  looks  into  the  flower- 
garden,  one  sees  the  same  thing  in  the  sprouting  peonies. 


IK 


:e 


46 


COLIN   CLOUT  S   CALENDAR. 


f    I 


if 
It 

:!| 

w 


wIiOBO  rich  red  foliage  is  more  likely,  perhaps,  to  be 
admired  than  the  very  similar  leaves  of  the  beet.  All 
these  brilliant  colors  on  spring  plants  are  interesting  be- 
cause of  the  light  which  they  incidentally  cast  upon  the 
origin  of  the  equally  brilliant  and  far  more  definite  colors 
of  fruits  and  flowers. 

Those  who  watch  trees  and  bushes  closely  must  have 
noticed  that  the  lirst  buds  in  spring  are  usually  more  or 
less  red,  or  at  least  reddish  or  brownish.  They  must  also 
liave  noticed  that  in  summer  the  ends  of  long  growing 
sprays  are  likewise  ruddy,  or  purple,  or  warm  brown. 
Now,  at  first  sight,  these  facts  do  not  seem  to  have  much 
connection  with  another  class  of  facts,  such  as  thobe 
noticed  above,  of  which  we  may  take  as  a  typical  example 
the  delicate  blue  or  violet  tinge  on  potato-stems  allowed 
to  grow  in  a  dark  cellar.  But  when  we  come  to  look  at 
them  closely,  it  is  clear  that  they  have  all  one  character- 
istic in  common  :  they  are  leaves  or  leaf-stems  which  are 
not  performing  their  proper  functions.  All  plants,  of 
whatever  sort,  when  placed  in  full  sunlight  develop  the 
active  green  coloring  matter  in  their  leaves — the  chlo- 
ropliyl  which  enables  them  to  analyze  carbonic  acid  in 
the  air,  and  to  store  its  carbon  as  starch  in  their  own  sap 
or  tissues.  "When  they  are  kept  in  the  dark,  however, 
or  when  they  are  yet  too  young  to  have  assumed  their 
proper  office,  they  do  not  contain  any  of  the  green  color- 
ing matter,  and  so  they  look  yellow,  pink,  or  white. 
The  bright  hue  thus  assumed  by  young  or  etiolated 
leaves  is  due  to  the  oxidation  of  theii  materials  ;  and,  in 
most  cases  where  growth  takes  place  from  a  stock  of 
food  already  laid  by,  such  oxidation  must  necessarily  go 
on.  It  is  thus  that  we  get  the  brilliant  red,  blue,  and 
yellow  coloring  of  rhubarb,  sea-kale,  potato-sprouts, 
beet-root  leaves,  growing  peonies,  or  young  carrots,  as 


,i^ 


h 


RHUBARB  SPROUTS. 


47 


well  as  of  long  sprays  in  hedgerows  and  on  young  rose- 
bushes. As  soon  as  the  leaves  are  fully  expanded,  the 
green  chlorophyl  begins  to  develop,  and  they  rapidly 
assume  their  true  hue  and  their  active  life  ;  but  if  they 
are  kept  in  the  dark,  or  prevented  from  normally  de- 
veloping, they  go  on  retaining  their  original  bright  col- 
ors for  an  indefinite  period. 

It  seems  most  probable  that  in  all  cases  the  oxidation 
of  green  leaves,  stems,  or  other  parts  of  plants,  produces 
bright  red,  yellow,  and  orange  coloring  matter.  We  are 
all  familiar  with  this  fact  in  the  instance  of  autumn 
hues,  where  Mr.  Sorby  has  shown  that  the  pigment  is 
chemically  nothing  more  than  an  oxidized  form  of  the 
ordinary  chlorophyl.  So  it  is  in  the  case  of  both  flowers 
and  fruits,  which  are  purely  expensive  structures,  pro- 
duced for  the  most  part  from  reservoirs  of  raw  material, 
such  as  bulbs,  tubers,  starchy  root-stocks,  or  permanent 
stems,  and  thus  exactly  resembling  the  red  or  purple 
shoots  of  the  peony,  the  rhubarb,  the  sea-kale,  and  the 
hawthorn  bushes.  Every  one  knows  that  fmits  are  at 
first  green,  and  only  grow  colored  as  they  ripen — that  is 
to  say,  as  they  oxidize.  Mr.  Sorby  has  shown  that  in 
flowers,  too,  the  coloring  matter  is  at  first  green,  and 
exactly  resembles  that  of  ordinary  leaves  ;  but  as  they 
grow  older  they  also  get  oxidized,  and  so  assume  their 
bright  hues. 

In  fact,  the  pigment  of  the  petals  in  many  cases  is  ex- 
actly the  same,  both  in  color  and  in  chemical  composi- 
tion, as  that  of  the  autumn  leaves  from  which  the  chlo- 
rophyl has  disappeared,  or  of  the  young  spring  foliage 
in  which  it  has  not  yet  been  developed.  So  that,  to  put 
it  simply,  all  plants,  whether  they  produce  brilliant 
fruits  and  flowers  or  otherwise,  have  in  them  all  the 
material  necessary  for  such  a  display,  and  could  be  in- 


(.1:1 


11    ,' 


48 


COLIN   clout's  calendar. 


-  i' 


5  I  ; 


vj 


duced  to  assume  bright  hues  under  proper  circumstances, 
just  as  our  gardeners  have  made  tlie  leaves  of  geraniums 
and  many  other  plants  do  so  since  the  taste  for  colored 
foliage  plants  set  in.  Besides,  such  bright  hues  are 
especially  apt  to  appear  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  fruits 
or  flowers,  and  do  often  appear  there  without  any  special 
reason.  If,  then,  in  the  wild  state,  they  ever  happened 
to  show  themselves  in  such  a  manner  as  to  benefit  the 
plant  by  attracting  birds  or  insects,  we  may  be  pretty 
sure  that  the  tendency  once  set  up  would  continue  and 
increase  from  generation  to  generation.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  it  is  manifest  that  some  familiar  fruits  and  flowers 
only  show  the  tendency  even  now  in  a  very  nascent  or 
incipient  form,  while  others  show  it  in  a  highly  de- 
veloped degree.  For  example,  in  peaches  and  apples 
only  the  sunny  side  is  colored  at  all,  and  that  in  a  very 
irregular  and  patchy  manner  ;  whereas  oranges  are  fully 
colored  in  every  part.  On  the  other  hand,  pears  i. 
rule  hardly  show  any  signs  of  coloring  beyond  a  sLgnt 
browning  of  the  peel  on  one  side.  Cherries  give  us 
every  stage — ^from  the  merely  pink-cheeked  whitehearts, 
to  the  deep  and  uniform  red  of  the  morella.  So,  too, 
among  flowers,  we  ma;^  compare  the  almost  accidental 
pinkiness  of  the  rays  in  a  daisy  with  the  full  rich  purple 
of  a  cineraria.  These  intermediate  cases  help  perhaps  to. 
show  us  how  color  first  begins  to  gather  in  some  particu- 
lar part,  and  so  forms  the  groundwork  upon  which 
selective  action  may  gradually  be  exerted.  It  is  not  diffi- 
cult to  see  how  the  first  few  faint  streaks  of  red  may  be- 
gin to  dapple  the  cheek  of  a  ripening  fruit,  just  as  they 
dapple  the  surface  of  autumn  leaves  ;  and  yet  when  that 
step  has  once  been  taken,  it  is  easy  to  fancy  the  subse- 
quent stages  by  which  the  color  becomes  intensified  from 
year  to  year,  through  the  constant  preference  shown  by 


RHUBARB   SPROUTS. 


40 


the  animal  allies  of  the  species  for  the  most  conspicuous 
fruits.  In  the  end,  alike  with  berries  and  with  blos- 
soms, the  coloring,  which  began  by  being  accidental 
and  indefinite,  finishes  hy  being  perfectly  definite  and 
regular. 


4 


IX. 


THE   SWALLOWS   AGAIN. 


:  i^ 


;!*' 


■J 


4   ! 


At  last  the  long-wished-for  rain  has  come  in  earnest ; 
the  ground  has  drunk  in  water  enough  to  give  it  more 
than  a  mere  surface  wetting  ;  and  the  grass  and  leaves 
begin  to  look  themselves  again  af  ♦'er  the  long  spell  of  dry 
and  warping  weather.  We  had  a  few  slight  showers  last 
week,  but  they  barely  sufficed  to  lay  the  dust  for  a 
couple  of  hours  ;  and  as  soon  as  they  had  dried  up,  the 
east  wind  blew  it  about  once  more,  so  that  even  the 
young  green  on  the  hedges  and  the  horse-chestnuts  was 
smothered  in  a  loose  coat  of  grayish  grime.  Now,  how- 
ever, nature  comes  out  anew  after  the  downpour  in  its 
freshest  spring  colors.  The  clouds  still  lower,  and  the 
tops  of  the  downs  are  still  lost  in  slowly  shifting  mists  ; 
so  to-day  the  swallows  have  left  the  open  meadovrs  and 
are  flitting  low  above  the  river,  gaping  open-mouthed  at 
the  water-flies  and  skimming  the  surface  of  the  stream 
with  their  long  blue-black  wings.  Leaning  here  on  the 
rough  parapet  of  the  old  stone  bridge,  1  can  see  the  flies 
at  which  they  are  darting  just  below  me  ;  for  swallows 
are  always  fearless  of  man  when  on  the  wing,  and  do  not 
hesitate  to  approach  him  flying  ;  though  they  seem 
hardly  ever  to  alight  anywhere  within  an  easy  stone's- 
throw  when  he  is  by,  except  of  course  in  their  nests. 
Their  ceaseless  motion  and  their  curious  independence  of 
rest  strikingly  recall  the  little  humming-birds  whom  I 
have  often  watched  in  like  manner,  whirring  past  me 
from  flower  to  flower  in  tropical  gardens  ;  and,  straiige 


THE    SWALLOWS    AOAIX. 


51 


i 

i 


as  it  sounds  to  say  so,  the  swallows  and  the  humming- 
birds are  indeed  tirst  cousins  to  one  anotlier,  thougli  so 
very  different  in  outward  shape  and  plumnge.  Indeed, 
nowhere  else  are  appearances  more  deceitful.  The  hum- 
ming-birds are  not  at  all  related  to  the  sun-birds  of  India 
and  Africa,  which  are  so  like  them  as  to  be  colloquially 
called  by  their  name  ;  while  they  are  closely  related  to 
the  very  unlike  swallows^  being,  in  fact,  American  swal- 
lows which  have  never  taken  to  migrating  very  far  north, 
and  have  accordingly  adapted  themselves  instead  to  a 
continuous  tropical  or  sub-tropical  existei\ce. 

Prince  Lucien  Bonaparte  was  the  first  to  show  that 
the  humming-birds  were  reaWy  most  nearly  allied  to  our 
dingy  northern  swifts.  Of  all  the  swallow  family,  the 
swifts  are  the  most  ceaselessly  active  and  possess  the 
widest  relative  stretch  of  wing.  Though  a  full-grown 
bird  usually  weighs  scarcely  one  ounce,  it  measures 
eighteen  inches  from  tip  to  tip  of  the  pinions.  No  one 
ever  saw  a  swift  perching  on  a  tree  or  hopping  about  the 
ground  ;  except  when  asleep,  it  is  almost  ceaselessly 
upon  th "»  wing.  It  catches  its  food  flying  ;  it  drinks  as 
it  skims  the  surface  of  the  water  ;  it  picks  up  the  mate- 
rials for  its  nest  while  sweeping  among  the  meadows 
close  to  the  ground.  Now,  if  you  transfer  some  of  these 
active,  restless,  insect-catching  swifts  to  the  tropics, 
what  will  be  the  natural  result  ?  A  large  proportion  of 
tropical  insects  find  their  food  in  the  large  bells  or  deep 
tubes  of  the  brilliant  equatorial  flowers.  So  the  swifts 
would  naturally  take  to  flitting  about  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  these  blossoms  and  poising  themselves  on  their 
powerful  wings  just' in  front  of  their  corollas.  Those  of 
them  which  took  permanently  to  such  a  mode  of  life 
would  soon  adapt  their  external  structure  to  the  new 
conditions  with  which  they  had  grown  familiar.     Tropi- 


[.y 


52 


COLIN   CLOUT  S   CALENDAR. 


!  : 


cal  swifts  with  the  longest  bills  and  the  most  extensile 
tongues  would  have  an  advantage  over  o^'ier^?,  because 
they  would  best  be  able  to  probe  the  long  tube;:  of  the 
flowers  and  extract  the  insects  f roL*  cuein,  i  jside  the  nec- 
tary itself.  In  tiiis  way  the  bill  and  tongue  have  grad- 
ually grown  so  long  in  their  descendants,  the  humming- 
birds, that  all  outer  resemblance  to  the  parental  swallow 
form  has  been  wholly  lost ;  and  the  family  was,  accord- 
ingly, classed  till  quite  recently  with  the  externally  simi- 
lar, but  genealogically  quite  distinct,  group  of  sun-birds. 

In  most  other  respects,  however,  the  humming-birds 
continue  to  resemble  the  ancestral  swifts.  The  shape  of 
the  wing  and  its  proportion  to  the  body  is  exactly  the 
same  ;  but,  above  all,  the  numerous  minute  anatomical 
points  of  similarity  settle  the  question  at  once  for  modern 
biology.  Even  before  evolutionism  gave  the  new  key 
which  solves  so  many  of  these  difficult  problems,  it  was 
noticed  that  the  humming-birds  were  very  like  the  swal- 
lows in  many  anatomical  particulars,  though  very  unlike 
them  in  plumage  and  in  the  shape  of  the  bill.  Dr.  Jer- 
don,  who  has  spent  his  life  in  studying  the  birds  of 
India,  hesitated  about  ranking  the  sun-birds  by  their  side 
because  of  this  structural  community  between  humming- 
birds and  swallows  ;  but  he  reassured  himself  when  he 
looked  at  the  general  external  likeness  of  the  two  tropi- 
cal groups.  Now,  however,  we  have  learned  that  such 
external  likenesses  are  necessarily  produced  by  commu- 
nity of  habit  and  mode  of  life  ;  while  underlying  struct- 
ural resemblance  forms  the  best  test  of  genealogical 
relationship.  Mr.  Wallace  has  shown  conclusively  that 
the  humming-birds  are  in  reality  modified  swifts,  and 
that  their  resemblance  to  the  Oriental  sun-birds  is  wholly 
due  to  the  similarity  of  their  circumstances. 

In  fact,  the  habits  of  the  two  races,  though  much  alike 


- 


THE   SWALLOWS   AGAIN. 


53 


in  many  respects,  still  bear  evident  traces  of  their  origi- 
nal derivation.  The  sun-birds  are  by  origin  creepers  ; 
and,  like  other  creepers,  they  have  not  very  large  or 
powerful  wings,  and  their  feet  are  formed  for  perching, 
which  is  not  the  case  with  either  the  swifts  or  the  hum- 
ming-birds. When  a  sun-bird  wants  to  suck  the  honey 
of  a  flower,  it  does  not  hover  in  front  of  it,  poised  upon 
swiftly  vibrating  pinions,  like  its  supposed  American 
allies  ;  but  it  perches  first  upon  the  stalk  or  branch,  and 
then  extracts  the  nectar  at  its  ease.  The  humming- 
birds, on  the  other  hand,  being  developed  insect-eaters, 
never  alight,  but  catch  their  food  upon  the  wing,  just  as 
their  ancestors  the  swifts  were  accustomed  to  do.  More- 
over, they  are  not  to  any  great  extent  honey-suckers  ; 
what  they  seek  in  the  nectary  is  not  so  much  the  honey 
as  the  insects  which  have  come  to  eat  it.  These  they 
can  extract  with  their  long  tongues  at  a  single  flick,  and 
then  they  dart  away  again,  just  like  the  swallows,  in 
search  of  more.  Mr.  Wallace  has  shown  that  young 
humming-birds  starve  upon  honey,  but  live  and  thrive 
upon  insects  alone  ;  being,  in  fact,  as  he  puts  it,  still  in 
the  swift  stage  of  their  development. 

As  for  the  points  of  convergence  between  the  hum- 
ming-birds and  the  sun-birds,  those  are  easily  enough 
explained.  Both  races  feed  upon  long-tubed  tropical 
flowers,  probing  their  recesses  in  search  either  of  honey 
or  flies  ;  and  both,  consequently,  require  long  bills  and 
'^xtensile  tongues.  Both  races  also  possess  brilliant 
plumage,  w'th  metallic  crests  or  gorgets  ;  and  such  brill- 
iance is  common  among  all  flower  -  feeding  and  fruit- 
eating  species,  such  as  butterflies,  rose-beetles,  toucans, 
parrots,  and  birds  of  paradise.  The  constant  association 
with  colorecl  objects,  and  the  constant  search  for  them  as 
food,  seems  to  arouse  a  taste  for  bright  color  in  the  creat- 


54 


COLIN   clout's   CALENDAK. 


■ 


1! 


ures  themselves,  which  is  actively  exerted  in  the  choice  of 
mates.  "Why  some  members  of  the  swift  and  swallow 
family  should  have  undergone  this  change  to  humming- 
birds in  the  western  continent  and  not  in  the  eastern  would 
be  a  more  difficult  question  to  answer  offhand  ;  but  I 
fancy  the  difference  may  be  partly  due  to  two  causes. 
In  the  first  place,  the  peculiar  way  in  which  the  Old 
"World  is  cut  up  into  two  distinct  regions,  hot  and  cold, 
by  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Himalayan  range  may 
have  favored  extensive  migration  here  ;  while  in  Am- 
erica the  continuity  of  land,  the  warmth  of  summer, 
and  the  general  luxuriance  of  blossoms  permit  humming- 
birds to  range  as  far  north  as  Canada  ;  and  thus  one  con- 
tinent may  have  favored  only  the  old  open  insect-hunt- 
ing types  like  the  swift,  while  the  other  favored  also 
specialized  flower-hunting  types  like  the  humming-birds. 
In  the  second  place,  the  creepers  may  already  have  oc(  u- 
pied  the  field  in  the  small  portion  of  Africa  and  Asia 
fitted  for  the  evolution  of  such  a  race  as  the  humming- 
birds, and  may  thus  effectually  have  prevented  the  east- 
em  swifts  from  ever  developing  in  that  direction.  Of 
course  in  any  case  the  specialization  of  humming-birds 
in  America  must  date  back  to  a  very  remote  period,  both 
on  account  of  the  profound  modifications  their  form  has 
undergone,  and  on  account  of  the  immense  number  of 
genera  and  species  into  which  they  have  split  up. 


1 


X. 


THE   GRKEN   LEAF. 

"What  an  exquisite  green,  deeply  tinged  with  yellow, 
this  young  foliage  of  the  oak  shows  us  in  these  its  earli- 
est stages  !  The  first  flush  of  the  hedges  was  spoiled  for 
us  this  year,  indeed,  by  the  long  mild  weather  of  March  ; 
the  hawthorn  bushes  came  out  tOo  slowly  and  sporadi- 
cally before  their  due  season  ever  to  display  that  living 
outljurst  of  fresh  verdure  in  which  they  revel  when  a 
week  of  bright  sunshine  comes  in  early  April  after  pro- 
tracted east  winds,  followed  by  a  single  quickening 
shower  or  so,  to  plim  out  and  burst  the  swelling  buds. 
But  the  larger  trees  are  making  up  for  it  now  :  their 
leafing  is  favored  by  just  such  an  interchange  of  sun  and 
shower  as  best  suits  their  ingrained  habits.  The  country 
people  use  them  to  prognosticate  the  weather,  with 
scarcely  more  distinguished  srccess  than  the  Meteorolog- 
ical Ofliice  itself.  '*  When  the  oak's  before  the  ash," 
runs  our  rustic  jingle,  **  Then  you  may  expect  a 
splash  ;  When  the  ash  is  before  the  oak.  Then  you  may 
look  out  for  a  soak."  A  j>riori  considerations  might 
thus  easilv  induce  one  to  coneludo  that  in  England  the 
ash  invariably  preceded  its  great  rival.  But,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  here  as  so  often  elsewhere,  practice  seems  to 
contradict  theory  —  the  oak  oftenest  leads  the  way. 
Hence,  considering  the  nature  of  our  climate,  the  prov- 
erb usually  turns  out  wrong  ;  which,  of  course,  makes 
no  ditference  at  all  in  the  faith  reposed  in  it  year  after 
year  by  some  thirty  millions  of  people  in  this  kingdom. 


i  i ' 


66 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


i. 


Instantia  contradictoria  non  Tnovet.  Once  let  a  saw 
take  deep  root  in  the  rural  mind,  and  no  experience  will 
ever  oust  it.  We  have  another  local  saying  hereabouts, 
that  **  Godshili  plain  is  a  sign  of  rain."  Now,  Godshill 
stands  on  the  very  verge  of  the  horizon,  and  is  only 
visible  in  very  clear  set-fair  summer  weather  ;  but  week 
after  week  in  fine  summers  every  inhabitant  of  the 
village  goes  to  bed  nightly  muttering  to  himself  that  it 
will  rain  to-morrow  because  Godshill  is  seen  so  distinctly 
this  evening. 

The  yearly  rejuvenescence  of  the  trees  in  the  fields 
around  us,  though  habit  has  somewhat  dulled  our  ap- 
preciation of  its  significance,  is  yet  a  very  beautiful  and 
a  very  suggestive  phenomenon.  Strictly  speaking,  ac- 
cording to  the  view  adopted  by  our  most  philosophical 
biologists,  the  leaf,  not  the  plant,  is  the  real  individual 
of  the  vegetable  world  ;  and  the  tree  as  a  whole  is  in 
fact  a  great  united  colony  of  such  separate  individuals. 
One  may  compare  it  to  a  coral-branch  covered  by  thou- 
sands of  little  living  polypes,  or  to  a  sponge  made  up  of 
myriads  of  tiny  jelly-like  beings.  Each  leaf  sprouts, 
lives,  and  dies  independently,  without  its  death  at  all 
affecting  the  general  life  of  the  community  to  which  it 
belongs  ;  and  the  seed  that  the  tree  as  a  whole  sends 
forth  to  perpetuate  its  kind  is  not  so  much  a  new  indi- 
vidual as  the  germ  of  a  whole  new  colony,  it  resembles 
rather  a  swarm  of  bees  going  forth  to  found  a  new  hive 
than  a  mere  single  young  individual  cast  upon  the  world 
on  his  own  account.  Yet  the  leaf  differs  from  the  coral 
polype  in  one  important  particular  :  its  life  is  carried  on 
in  subordination  to  the  life  of  the  whole  tree  of  which  it 
forms  a  part.  Sap  and  protoplasm  are  supplied  to  it 
from  the  older  organs  behind.  It  is  like  some  member 
of  a  civilized  community  whose  own  separate  functions 


THE   GREEN    LEAF. 


or 


are  intimately  bound  up  with  those  of  all  the  others,  on 
whom  he  depends  variously  for  food  and  clothing  ; 
whereas  the  polype  is  like  a  mere  hunting  savage,  self- 
supporting  and  comparatively  isolated,  though  forming 
part  of  a  rudely  aggregated  whole.  And  just  as  one 
individual  in  the  community  may  die  without  endanger- 
ing the  existence  of  the  community  in  its  corporate 
capacity,  so  the  separate  leaves  may  fall  away  and  die 
without  endangering  or  lessening  the  life  of  a  tree  on 
which  they  grew.  In  this  way  they  differ  materially 
from  the  organs  of  a  single  organism,  no  one  of  which 
can  be  cut  away  without  seriously  damaging  the  entire 
body  of  which  it  is  a  portion. 

Metaphysical  as  this  conception  sounds  at  first  hearing, 
it  would  still  be  hard  to  realize  in  any  other  fashion  the 
actual  life  of  trees.  The  greeii  leaves  which  they  are 
now  putting  forth  so  abundantly  are  each  new  members 
of  the  foliar  commonwealth.  They  spring  from  buds, 
prepared  for  the  purpose  before  last  winter  set  in  ;  and 
they  are  nurtured  by  the  material  drawn  from  the  dead 
leaves  of  last  year's  crop  ;  for  that  is  how  the  corporate 
existence  is  kept  up  from  season  to  season.  What  fell 
last  autumn  was  not  the  living  part  of  the  leaves  ;  it  was 
merely  the  dead  skeleton  of  the  foliage — the  mass  of 
empty  cells  and  stringy  fibre,  from  which  all  truly  vital 
matte-  had  been  carefully  withdrawn.  The  active  pro- 
toplasm and  green  chlorophyl  from  each  coll  of  the  leaf 
moved  slowly  out  with  strange  groping  serpentine 
motions,  like  little  shapeless  jelly-bag  animals,  at  the 
first  approach  of  autumn  frosts,  and  stored  themselves 
up  securely  in  the  permanent  tissues  of  the  stem  till  the 
present  time.  How  they  have  acquired  the  cunning  to 
do  80,  under  the  influence  of  natural  selection,  is  one  of 
the  greatest  problems  yet  remaining  unsolved  in  all  the 


58 


COLIN   clout's   calendar. 


history  of  life  ;  indeed,  the  more  one  looks  at  the  ap- 
parently 8])ontaneon8  and  voluntary  movements  of  this 
formless  primary  protoplasm,  the  more  exactly  do  all  its 
properties,  even  in  a  plant,  seem  to  resemble  those  of 
c'onseions  and  intelligent  beings.  It  is  not  merely  that 
protoplasm  feels  its  way  and  moves  responsively  to 
changes  around  it,  but  it  also  acts  with  every  appearance 
of  deliberate  volition.  All  winter  long  these  living  prin- 
ciples of  the  dead  leaves  remain  stored  up  within  the 
trunk  or  branches  ;  and  now,  when  the  sun  returns  to  us 
again,  they  are  pushed  up  anew  into  the  bui-sting  buds, 
and  go  to  form  the  young  leaves  of  the  new  year.  The 
vital  protoplasm  divides  itself  once  more  into  cell  after 
cell  in  the  fresh  foliage  ;  each  little  globule  surrounds 
itself  with  a  solid  wall  secreted  from  its  own  substance  j 
and  the  whole  mass  burgeons  forth  apace  into  a  new  set 
of  leaves. 

Thus  in  one  sense  we  might  almost  say  that  this  year's 
leaves  are  last  year's  over  again.  "Whatever  was  really 
vital  in  them  remains  ;  what  was  cast  away  was  but  the 
bare  shell  that  surrounded  the  true  living  material. 
Trees,  in  fact,  are  plant  communities  which  have  learned 
thus  to  keep  up  a  common  life  apart  from  the  life  of  the 
separate  individuals  which  make  them  up.  Their  stems 
differ  from  the  stems  of  herbs  only  in  the  thickness  of 
their  cell-walls  and  the  absence  of  living  matter  in  the 
woody  tissues.  Accordingly,  trees  appear  in  the  most 
widely  different  families  of  plants  ;  and  sometimes  they 
are  closely  related  to  very  small  and  weedy  types,  as 
among  the  roses,  which  vary  in  stature  from  little  creep- 
ing herbs  like  the  wild  strawberry  to  tall  trunks  like  the 
pear-tree.  "Wide  as  the  difference  seems  to  us,  it  is  but 
a  slight  one  in  reality  :  a  tree  is  only  an  herb  which  has 
prospered  best  by  growing  stiff  and  perennial,  and  so 


THE  GREEN    LEAF. 


69 


iias  acquired  the  habit  of  making  its  very  stem  very 
stout  and  hard,  to  resist  the  greater  mechanical  strains 
that  will  now  be  brought  against  it  by  wind  and 
weather.  In  all  essential  points  each  tree  still  preserves 
all  the  main  features  of  the  family  to  which  it  happens 
to  belong. 


1  i' 


XL 


il 


'4 


THE  FLOWERING  OF  THE  GRASSES. 

The  big  dry  logs  beside  the  path  in  Holme  Bush 
Fields  make  a  pleasant  seat  in  wet  weather  ;  though  why 
the  Squire  has  let  them  lie  here  so  long  it  would  be 
hard  to  say  ;  for  they  are  fine  solid  trunks  of  good 
timber,  and  now  they  are  beginning  to  rot  on  the  under- 
side, and  to  put  forth  beautiful  patches  of  bright  orange 
fungus  at  the  scars  of  the  main  branches.  Around  them, 
the  grass  is  growing  tall  and  luxuriant,  as  it  always  does 
beside  fallen  wood  ;  and  most  of  the  heads  are  now 
coming  into  their  first  bloom,  with  the  little  quivering 
and  shivering  stamens  trembling  like  aspen  leaves  before 
the  faintest  breath  of  wind.  These  smooth,  round  cylin- 
drical mops,  soft  and  hairy  like  a  fox's  brush,  are  the 
meadow  foxtails ;  these  slender  waving  panicles,  much 
branched  and  subdivided,  with  a  faint  purplish  blush  upon 
their  tiny  flowers,  are  the  common  field-grass,  the  most 
ordinary  element  of  all  our  English  pastures ;  these 
larger,  broader,  flatter,  and  more  turgid  heads,  fiercely 
bearded,  and  standing  out  square  to  the  breeze,  are 
haulms  of  brome ;  and  these  single  stiff,  lance-like 
spikes,  with  dark-brown  scales  between  the  florets,  are 
sweet  vernal  grass,  the  plant  that,  a  little  later,  imparts 
its  familiar  and  delicious  perfume  to  new-mown  hay. 
You  can  pick  a  dozen  kinds  without  stirring  as  you  sit 
on  the  logs  here.  There  are  people  who  only  know  all 
these  infinite  varieties  that  go  to  make  up  the  greensward 
of  England  as  grass.     But  they  are  not  grass,  they  are 


THE   FLOWERING    OF  THE   GRASSES. 


ei 


.; 


grasses.  In  Britain  alone  we  have  no  fewer  than  a  hun- 
dred and  one  species,  without  counting  some  seventy 
sedges  which  nobody  but  a  botanist  would  ever  think  of 
discriminating  from  them.  They  are  all  really  as  much 
unlike  one  another,  when  you  come  to  look  into  them, 
as  a  wild  strawberry  is  unlike  a  dog-rose  ;  yet  even 
countrymen  and  farmere  make  little  distinction  between 
them,  and  not  more  than  a  dozen  or  so  have  real  popular 
English  names — such  as  fescue,  matwepd,  wild  oats, 
cordgrass,  darnel,  and  wagging  bennets.  A  few  are 
troublesome  weeds,  like  couchgrass  ;  a  few  others  are 
valuable  fodder,  like  timothy  ;  and  these  have  naturally 
acquired  names  from  the  cultivators  who  befriend  or  ex- 
terminate them  ;  while  a  few  more  are  striking  enough 
to  attract  attention  by  their  prettiness,  like  quakegrasp, 
tares,  or  nard  ;  an(J  these  have  sometimes  been  quaintly 
and  prettily  dubbed  with  Bible  names  by  village  chil- 
dren. But  by  far  the  greater  number  are  too  inconspic- 
uous ever  to  have  reached  the  dignity  of  any  nomencla- 
ture whatsoever  till  the  systematists  took  them  in  hand 
and  divided  them  all  artificially  into  different  genera  and 
species.  Even  the  larger  groups  number  in  Britain 
forty-two. 

Grasses  have  very  degenerate  flowers,  almost  more  so 
than  those  of  any  other  known  family  of  plants  ;  and  yet 
even  here  we  can  still  dimly  trace  some  vague  picture  of 
their  earlier  pedigree  in  their  present  degraded  condition. 
It  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  evolution  is  neces- 
sarily always  upward.  On  the  whole,  there  is  continuous 
progress  ;  but  there  is  much  retrogression,  too,  in  particu- 
lar cases.  I  take  a  head  of  meadow  brome,  and  pull  its 
panicle  to  pieces.  It  is  made  up  of  several  little  flower- 
ing branches,  each  covered  with  tiny  green  or  brownish 
flowers.     Why  green  ?    Because  the  grasses  are  wind- 


62 


COLIN   clout's  calendar. 


•J 


^,1 


fertilized  and  60  havo  no  need  to  attract  insects  ;  on  the 
contrary,  they  do  everything  in  tlieir  power  to  keep  them 
carefully  away,  for  the  flies  would  only  eat  the  pollen 
without  doing  any  good  to  the  plant  in  return.  Now  let 
mu  take  one  little  separate  spikelet  of  flowers  from  the 
head,  and  dissect  it  more  carefully.  Outside  come  two 
empty  pieces  of  chaff,  mere  bracts  or  scales,  meant  to 
protect  the  flowers  from  intrusive  ants  or  other  creeping 
insects.  Then^  within  these  protective  shields  come  the 
real  flowers,  each  consisting  of  two  somewhat  similar  bits 
of  chaff — glumes  we  call  them — inclosing  three  waving 
stamens  and  a  tiny  embryo  grain.  Not  much  like  a  lily 
or  wild  hyacinth  at  first  sight,  and  yet  the  self -same  plan 
is  traceable  all  through  them.  The  ancestors  of  the 
grasses  started  by  being  a  sort  of  lilies,  each  with  three 
calyx  pieces,  three  petals,  thre^.  stamens,  and  three  cells 
to  ilieir  fruit ;  what  has  become  of  all  these  parts  in  the 
meadow  brome  ?  Well,  they  are  almost  all  there,  if  one 
looks  close  enough  to  see  them. 

First  there  is  the  calyx  :  that  is  represented  by  the 
two  inner  chaft-lilTe  glumes.  Once  rpoii  a  time  there 
were  three  of  these,  and  ^heve  are  still  rudiments  of  the 
three  left ;  for  the  innermcfSl*.  of  thn  two  glumes  is  really 
a  couple  rolled  into  one,  and  has  two  little  green  midribs, 
one  on  each  side,  as  you  see,  still  marking  the  true  facts 
as  to  its  origin.  In  order  to  pack  them  away  more  neatly 
on  the  branch,  however,  the  one  large  outer  calyx-piece 
overwraps  the  two  small  and  united  inner  ones,  so  that 
to  a  casual  glance  they  look  like  a  pair  of  equ.il  and  op- 
posite scales.     That  satisfactorily  accounts  for  the  eajyx. 

Next,  how  about  the  petals  ?  Well,  if  you  lift  off 
the  two  glumes  very  carefully,  you  will  see  beneath  them, 
jns^t  outside  the  stamens  and  the  embryo  grain,  a  couple 
of  73ry  tiny  thin  transparent  leaves.     They  are  almost 


THE    FLOWEHINO   OF   TIIK   0RASSB9. 


C3 


microscopical  in  size,  no  bi«?s^er  than  tlie  dot  of  an  ?*,  and 
so  thin  and  fihny  tliat  they  look  very  nnieli  like  a  niidij^e'.s 
win<]^.  So  far  as  I  can  tell  they  are  of  no  use  at  all  to 
the  plant  as  it  now  stands  :  they  remain  there  as  mere 
fnnctionless  rudiments,  apparently  on  purpose  to  let  us 
see  the  essential  kinship  between  tlie  grasses  and  tlie 
lilies.  For  these  are  two  out  of  the  three  original  petals, 
dwarfed  almost  beyond  recognition,  but  still  fairly  to  be 
identified  by  means  of  intermediate  links.  As  to  the 
third  petal,  which  ought  to  bo  within,  on  the  same  side 
as  the  two  calyx-pieces  which  are  united  into  one,  that 
has  disappeared  altogetlier,  cnished  wholly  out  of  exist- 
ence between  the  grain  and  the  calyx.  The  fact  is,  the 
one-sided  arrangement  of  the  little  flowers  on  the  spike, 
necessary  in  order  to  let  their  stamens  hang  out  freely 
to  the  wind,  has  distorted  all  the  inner  half  of  the 
blossoms — much  as  the  habit  of  lying  on  one  side  has 
distorted  and  blanched  the  lower  half  of  the  sole  or  the 
flounder.  But  we  have  numerous  intermediate  forms 
still  existing  which  lead  us  from  the  true  lilies,  with 
their  colored  petals,  through  the  wood-rushes,  whose 
petals  are  thin  and  brownisli,  to  certain  sedges  in  which 
they  have  become  mere  rudiments,  and  to  the  grasses  in 
which  only  two  of  them  can  be  distinguished  at  all. 
However,  one  group  of  very  large  and  tall  grasses,  the 
bamboo  tribe,  still  keeps  all  three  of  its  petals  ;  it  is 
the  smallness  of  our  English  kinds  which  has  made  the 
third  and  innermost  disappear.  The  stamens  are  still 
all  right  ;  they  keep  up  their  original  number  of  three  ; 
while  in  the  fruit  two  of  the  cells  have  become  abortive, 
for  a  reason  which  we  will  presently  consider,  and  only 
one  remains  to  produce  a  little  corn-like  grain.  Our 
spike  of  meadow-brome  contains  several  (Jozen  such 
very  tiny  and  degenerate  lily  blossoms. 


tJtflmiwgmwpwPB 


li 


64 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


,115 


■  i 


But  if  the  grasses  are  so  degraded,  why  do  they  suc- 
ceed in  life  so  well  ?  One  hab  only  to  cast  an  eye  at  the 
fields  around  one  to  see  that  they  have  fared  not  badly 
in  the  struggle  for  existence.  In  the  first  place  we  must 
remember  that  in  a  natural  state  there  are  not,  as  a  rule, 
nearly  co  many  grasses  as  we  see  about  us  in  England. 
Virgin  forest  would  naturally  cover  much  of  the  land 
which  we  have  given  over  to  meadow  and  pasture  for 
our  own  purposes  ;  and  even  where  great  prairies  occupy 
many  miles  together,  they  are  by  no  means  so  exclu- 
sively grassy  as  most  people  who  have  not  seen  them 
are  apt  to  imagine.  Setting  this  aside,  however,  it  must 
be  allowed  that  the  grasses  are  really  a  very  successful 
family,  one  of  the  most  successful  on  earth.  But  the 
truth  is,  they  owe  their  success  to  their  very  degeneracy. 
The  most  highly  developed  types  of  plants  or  animals 
are  never  by  any  means  the  most  numerous.  There  are 
more  acorn  barnacles  on  a  single  mile  of  tide-covered 
rock  than  there  are  human  beings  in  all  the  British  Isles. 
Who  can  count  the  number  of  little  green  aphides  on  a 
solitary  rose-leaf,  or  the  number  of  mites  in  a  single 
pound  of  old  cheese  ?  Yet  all  three  classes  are  degene- 
rate. It  is  just  the  same  with  plants  :  the  small,  lithe, 
waving  grasses  can  fill  up  a  thousand  nooks  and  corners 
in  nature  which  cannot  be  filled  by  the  great  oaks,  or 
even  by  the  tall  docks,  or  spurges,  or  nettles.  As  a  rule, 
one  may  say  that  the  higher  plants  are  comparatively  | 
few  and  far  between,  while  the  small,  degenerate  types 
are  common  and  ubiquitous  :  just  as  one  can  everywhere 
find  little  insects  and  creeping  things,  while  deer,  ele- 
phants, zebras,  and  monkeys,  both  from  their  larger  size 
and  higher  specialization,  are  only  found  in  small  num- 
bers over  restricted  areas. 

But  in  their  own  way,  to  fill  their  own  place  in 


THE  FLOWERING   OF  THE   GRASSES. 


65 


nature,  the  grasses,  though  degenerate,  are  admirably 
adapted  to  their  particular  station.  The  great  secrets  of 
their  success  are  probably  three  in  number.  First,  they 
have  a  general  shape,  which  allows  them  admirably  to 
fill  up  all  the  cricks  and  corners  between  other  plants  '- 
to  economize  any  bit  of  waste  space  which  no  other 
competitor  has  seized  upon  ;  and  in  perfectly  wild  or 
tangled  countries  this  is  really  their  main  function  in 
the  complex  balance  of  vegetable  life.  Secondly,  they 
have  an  immense  number  of  flowers  stowed  away  in  the 
smallest  possible  space,  and  fertilized  in  a  very  cheap 
and  simple  manner  by  the  wind.  And  thirdly,  they 
have  learned  to  produce  only  one  seed  from  each  flower, 
in  the  shape  of  a  single  grain,  more  richly  stored  with 
food-stuffs  for  the  young  plant  than  those  of  almost  any 
other  species.  One  rich  seed  is  worth  more  in  the 
struggle  for  life  than  twenty  poor  ones.  It  is  this  last 
peculiarity  that  makes  the  grasses  so  largely  cultivated 
by  man.  What  feeds  young  plants  will  fed  animals 
also.  We  grow  wheat,  barley,  oats,  rye,  Indian  com, 
rice,  and  millet  for  our  own  use  ;  and  we  grow  almost 
all  other  kinds  of  grasses  for  our  cattle  and  horses.  Of 
course,  everybody  knows  that  hay  is  cut  just  when  these 
rich  seeds  are  at  their  prime,  and  it  is  comparatively 
valueless  if  allowed  to  grow  over-ripe  so  that  the  grain 
falls  out  on  to  the  ground  below.  Besides  these  main 
points,  however,  grasses  as  a  group  have  a  hundred 
minor  adaptations,  which  give  them  special  advantages 
in  the  race  for  the  possession  of  the  earth  ;  and,  as  to 
each  particular  grass,  it  has  so  many  little  tricks  and 
devices  of  its  own,  that  if  1  were  to  try  to  tell  you  all 
about  the  hairs  and  awns  and  bristles  on  this  single  bit 
of  brome  or  of  foxtail,  we  might  sit  here  talking  all  the 
afternoon,  and  even  then  not  have  finished. 


;i| 


il 


n 


XII. 


THE   SUBMERGED   FOREST. 


i 


Last  night's  storm,  coniciding  with  the  spring  tides, 
has  laid  bare  the  beach  for  a  considerable  distance  ;  and 
this  morning,  now  that  the  ebb  is  at  its  lowest,  the 
stumps  and  twigs  of  the  sunken  forest  may  be  clearly 
seen  protruding  from  the  underlying  clay  bank.  All 
round  the  coast  of  England,  wherever  the  land  shelves 
slowly  off  to  seaward,  we  may  find  a  curious  belt  of 
such  drowned  woodland,  partly  uncovered  at  low  tides, 
and  generuiiy  filled  with  broken  stumps  and  trunks  of 
water-logged  trees.  These  submerged  forests  are  usually 
well  known  locally  by  that  very  name  ;  but  hardly 
enough  attention  has  yet  been  given  to  the  practical 
universality  of  their  occurrence  in  all  situations  except 
where  the  presence  of  high  cliffs  clearly  indicates  that 
the  land-line  is  being  largely  and  rapidly  undermined 
by  the  encroaching  sea.  Such  broken  stumps  and  logs 
are  to  be  found,  not  here  and  there,  but  everywhere. 
They  begin  under  tlie  level  flats  of  Morecambe  Bay  and 
the  sands  of  Dee  ;  they  crop  up  again  in  the  great 
bight  of  Cardigan  Bay,  where  legend  still  commemorates 
the  flooding  of  the  Lowland  Hundred  which  once  occu- 
pied the  space  between  the  rocky  barrier  of  Sarn  Badrig 
(or  St.  Patrick's  Causeway)  and  the  Mei'ioneth  coast  ; 
they  are  found  once  more  along  the  entire  line  of  the 
Bristol  Channel ;  they  fill  up  the  hollows  of  Falmouth 
Harbor,  of  Torbay,  and  of  Dartmouth  ;  they  recur  here 
at  the  embouchure  of  Venlake  ;  they  extend  along  the 


1 


TEE   BUBMBRGEIJ    FOREST. 


67 


whole  Sussex  shore  ;  and  even  on  the  east  side  of  Eng- 
land they  have  been  traced  in  the  estuary  of  the  Thames, 
at  Cromer  in  Norfolk,  in  the  Wash,  and  near  the  mouth 
of  the  Humber. 

In  fact,  the  evidence  goes  to  ihow  that  at  no  very 
remote  period  the  land  of  England  stretched  farther  out 
to  sea  in  every  direction  than  it  does  at  the  present  day. 
That  most  lively  and  amusing  of  mediaeval  writers, 
Giraldus  Cambrensis — whose  entertaining  travels  would, 
I  am  sure,  be  much  more  read  if  his  name  did  not  sug- 
gest incongruous  notions  of  dry  monastic  chroniclers — 
has  given  us  a  full  and  really  scientific  account  of  one 
such  submerged  wood  which  he  came  across  in  South 
Wales  ;  and  ever  since  his  time  notices  of  these  sub- 
marine remains  have  frequently  been  published.  Yet 
no  general  explanation  of  their  occurrence  had  been 
attempted  till  within  the  last  few  years.  Even  now, 
only  a  small  number  of  scientific  men  have  thoroughly 
realized  the  wide  range  of  the  facts  to  be  explained  in 
the  case  of  the  English  coast. 

The  date  of  the  submerged  forests  is,  geologically 
speaking,  quite  modern.  The  stumps  are  still  woody  in 
texture,  showing  a  bright  pink  hue  when  cut ;  and  they 
would  sometimes  make  very  good  timber  if  the  softened 
outer  l.'iver  were  once  scraped  off.  Twigs,  nuts,  and 
even  leaves  are  often  found  almost  unaltered  in  the 
brown  clay  which  surrounds  the  stumps.  In  the  Bristol 
Channel,  which  was  long  a  broad  open  valley,  like  that 
of  the  Thames  or  the  Humber  in  our  own  time,  caves 
are  still  to  be  found  in  the  cliffs  which  once  overlooked 
the  wide  plains  ;  and  in  these  caves  are  numerous  im- 
fossilized  bones  of  recent  animals,  devoured  there  by 
bears  and  hyenas.  In  one  such  cave  no  fewer  than  a 
thousand  antlers  of  the  reindeer  were  discovered.     Such 


^l 


88 


COLIN  clout's   calendar. 


ir 


facts  can  only  be  explained  on  the  supposition  that  the 
deer  and  oxen  once  roamed  in  the  open  valley  beneath, 
and  were  preyed  on  by  the  carnivores  which  haunted  the 
caverns.  Every  indication  of  the  animals,  the  trees,  and 
the  position  of  the  deposits  goes  to  show  that  this  age 
of  forests  extending  far  to  seaward  of  the  present  coast 
was  subsequent  to  the  date  of  the  last  glacial  epoch,  and 
just  preceded  the  final  severance  of  England  from  the 
Continent.  In  all  probability  the  ancestors  of  the  South 
Welsh  and  of  the  small  dark  Celts  of  Scotland  and 
Ireland  were  already  settled  in  Britain  before  that 
severance  took  place. 

The  forest  beds  now  stretch  to  a  depth  of  some  forty 
or  even  sixty  feet  below  the  present  highest  tidal  level. 
Accordingly,  the  subsidence  of  the  land  appears  to  have 
been  at  least  as  much  as  sixty  feet,  and  perhaps  far 
more  :  for  the  trees  must,  of  course,  have  flourished  on 
the  level  of  high-water  mark,  and  possibly  a  good  deal 
above  it.  Moreover,  shore  forms  of  shellfish  are  found 
by  dredging  in  similar  old  beds  of  recent  but  not  of 
modem  date  at  considerable  depths  below  the  surface, 
thus  also  showing  a  comparatively  late  subsidence  of  the 
land.  As  these  phenomena  are  not  isolated,  but  occur 
all  rouiid  the  coast  of  England,  they  probably  mark  a 
general  lowering  of  the  land  surface,  rather  than  a  mere 
series  of  disconnected  local  changes.  There  are  many 
good  reasons  for  supposing  that  England  was  still 
united  to  the  mainland  of  Europe  after  the  ice  of  the 
last  glacial  period  had  all  melted  away  ;  because  our 
fauna  and  flora  are  hardly  at  all  peculiar,  as  is  the  case 
with  islands  long  separated  from  the  neighboring  con- 
tinents. The  animals  and  plants  of  Britain  are  the 
animals  and  plants  of  Europe  generally  since  the  glacial 
epoch  ;  and  they  do  not  include  any  of  those  which  are 


THE   SUBMERGED    FOllEST. 


69 


peculiar  to  the  pre-glacial  age.  They  are  so  numerous 
in  species,  and  so  fairly  represent  the  fauna  and  flora  of 
the  Continent,  that  they  must  have  entered  Britain  from 
the  mainland  by  a  broad  ridge  or  isthmus  at  a  period  sub- 
sequent to  the  great  ice  age  ;  and  there  is  every  reason 
to  believe  that  the  earliest  race,  of  men  now  inhabiting 
the  island  also  entered  it  at  the  same  period. 

Had  not  such  a  bridge  existed  later  than  the  time 
when  the  old  fauna  was  killed  off  by  the  ice  just  as  thor- 
oughly as  the  temperate  fauna  of  Greenland  is  killed 
off  in  our  own  time,  it  would  be  impossible  to  account 
for  the  presence  of  so  many  Continental  animals,  large 
and  small,  as  we  actually  find  in  Britain.  A  few  deer 
and  a  few  rats  migl't  have  swum  over  ;  but  that  all  our 
shrews,  foxes,  badgers,  hedgehogs,  hares,  rabbits,  moles, 
squirrels,  weasels,  stoats,  martens,  field-mice,  lizards, 
snakes,  and  other  mammals  or  reptiles,  could  have  come 
across  by  mere  accident  is  incredible.  Still  less  can  we 
believe  that  our  120  species  of  snails  and  our  numerous 
insects  were  introduced  in  such  a  fortuitous  way.  The 
straits  which  divide  the  Australian  from  the  Javan  and 
Indian  fauna  are  scarcely  wider  than  the  strait  which 
separates  England  from  the  Continent ;  yet  not  one 
Indian  species  of  mammal  has  ever  found  its  way  into 
Australia,  nor  one  Australian  species  into  the  Javan  and 
Indian  region.  There  can  be  little  doubt,  therefore,  that 
these  submerged  forests,  almost  modern  in  their  appear- 
ance and  overlying  the  glacial  gravels,  are  relics  of  the 
land  surface  which  once  connected  us  with  the  Conti- 
nent on  the  one  hand  and  with  Ireland  on  the  other.  If 
it  be  asked  why,  with  such  a  wide  connection  existing 
at  so  late  a  date,  we  should  lack  so  many  Continental 
mammals,  the  answer  is  that  in  a  small  and  thickly 
peopled  area  like  England  many  of   them  have  been 


^■il 


TO 


COLIN"  clout's  calendar. 


Ill 


exterminated,  directly  or  indirectly,  through  man's 
agency,  within  the  historical  period.  The  bear,  the 
wild  boar,  the  wolf,  the  reindeer,  and  the  beaver  have 
all  become  extinct  since  the  Roman  occupation  ;  the 
badger,  the  otter,  the  marten,  and  the  stoat  are  being 
slowly  driven  out  in  our  own  time  ;  the  fallow  deer  and 
the  white  cattle  have  been  artificially  preserved  ;  and 
even  the  fox  would  perhaps  have  died  out  long  ago  bufc 
for  the  strenuous  exertio^^s  of  sportsmen. 


*i 


XIII. 


A    SUMMER   TRIP. 


How  many  Englishmen,  I  wonder,  at  a  competitive  ex- 
amination, could  tell  one  anything  definite  about  Lundy 
Island,  whither  we  have  come  over  to-day,  like  Mr«. 
John  Gilpin  "  on  pleasure  bent,"  with  our  baskets  and 
our  bottles  duly  packed  to  enjoy  a  day's  outing.  A 
boat  from  Clovelly  has  brought  us  across  gayly  enough 
(in  calm  weather) ;  and  here  we  are,  safe  and  sound, 
prepared  to  explore  the  zoological  and  botanical  pecu- 
liarities of  rugged  little  Lundy.  There  is  an  old  story 
of  a  Scotch  minister  in  one  of  the  little  islets  of  the 
Clyde  mouth  who  once  prayed  for  the  welfare  of  Great 
Cumbrae  and  Little  Cumbrae,  and  the  adjacent  islands 
of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  The  good  man's  simple 
insularity  recalls  to  one's  mind  a  certain  wider  insularity 
which  we  all  of  us  share.  When  most  people  speak  of 
the  British  Isles  they  probably  have  in  their  mind's  eye 
only  the  two  main  elements  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland, 
without  considering  the  *^  adjacent  islands"  at  all ;  and 
even  if  they  thought  a  little  upon  the  subject  they  would 
not  be  likely  to  reckon  up  more  than  some  dozen  others 
of  the  largest  sort  —  such  as  Wight,  Man,  Anglesey, 
Orkney,  Shetland,  Skye,  and  Jura.  But  a  geographical 
authority  ci  edibly  informs  us  that  the  British  Isles  really 
comprise  no  fewer  than  one  thousand  separate  islands 
and  islets,  without  counting  mere  jutting  rocks  or  isolated 
pinnacles.  Of  these,  perhaps  some  two  dozen  are  situ- 
ated in  the  Bristol  Channel,  mostly  off  the  jagged  South 


I  '' 


73 


COLIN  CLorr's  calendar. 


1 

j. 


11 


■^1 


Welsh  coafit ;  while  three  of  them — the  Steep  Holm,  the 
Flat  Ilolm,  and  Lniidy  IsIjitk] — may  pretty  fairly  be 
considered  as  belonging  to  the  real  English  shore. 

Their  very  names  are  interesting,  for  the  Holms  were 
so  called  by  the  Scandinavian  pirates  and  still  retain  the 
old  Norse  word  for  an  island,  which  v;e  meet  again,  for 
instance,  in  Stockholm,  the  isle  at  the  debonchnre  of  the 
Malffir  Lake  ;  while  Lundy  shares  the  common  termina- 
tion of  most  other  eyots  round  the  English  coast — as  in 
Sheppey,  Walney,  Anglesey,  Scilly,  and  Caldy.  The 
syllable  in  question  is  the  original  English  form 
of  the  word  island,  which  ought  etymologically  to  be 
written  **  iland ' '  ;  and  therefore  Lundy  ought  to  stand  by 
itself,  as  Sheppey  and  Anglesey  always  do,  without 
having  a  redundant  and  additional  notification  of  its 
insularity  tacked  on  without  rhyme  or  reason  to  its 
name.  But  use  and  wont  govern  all  these  things  ;  and 
just  as  people  who  are  ignorant  of  the  good  old  word 
"  mere"  have  taken  to  talking  pleonastically  of  Winder- 
mere Lake,  so  all  of  us  have  taken  to  talking  pleonastic- 
ally  of  Lundy  Liland.  It  is  only  in  the  bigger  cases  of 
Sheppey,  Jersey,  and  Anglesey  that  we  still  keep  to  the 
correct  usage  ;  much  as  we  always  properly  say  West- 
moreland and  Cumberland  without  any  '*  shire,"  as  we 
ought  to  do,  while  the  people  of  Rutland  are  often 
scandalized  at  hearing  their  little  county  wrongfully 
described  as  Rutlandshire. 

Lundy  is  a  small  boss  of  granite  with  a  little  of  the 
red  Devonian  rock  in  patches  on  its  surface,  rising 
somewhat  abruptly  from  the  bed  of  the  Bristol  Channel, 
only  twelve  miles  from  the  steep  promontory  of  Hart- 
land  Point.  It  is  not  more  than  three  miles  long,  and  it 
is  little  visited  except  by  a  few  stray  travellers  from 
Clovelly  or  Ilfracombe,  who  go  over  out  of  curiosity,  in 


A   SUMMER  TRIP. 


:3 


order  to  say  they  liavo  been  to  a  place  wlii'ch  hardly 
anybody  else  has  been  to  bc'^oro.  But  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  geologist  and  naturalist  Lundy  and  tlio 
Ilohns  are  full  of  interest.  For  if,  as  seems  probable, 
the  Bristol  Channel  was  at  no  very  remote  period  a 
broad  and  open  plain,  like  that  of  the  Gironde,  through 
wliich  the  Severn  made  its  way  into  the  Atlantic  some- 
where off  the  south  coast  of  Ireland,  then  these  three 
petty  islands  are  solitary  remains  of  the  submerged 
lands — little  hills  which  have  survived  the  general  sub- 
sidence, as  Glastonbury  Tor  might  survive  if  the  water 
were  to  break  over  the  Somersetshire  marshes,  or  as 
Primrose  Hill  might  survive  if  the  valley  of  the  Thames 
were  to  sink  some  fifty  feet  below  the  sea. 

"We  know  that  the  warmth  and  the  sea  air  have  kept 
a  great  many  south  European  plants  and  animals  alive 
in  the  south-western  peninsulas  of  England  and  Ireland 
long  after  they  have  been  killed  out  in  the  colder  regions 
of  the  north  and  east ;  and  in  these  little  islets  of  the 
south-west  coast  the  insular  conditions  of  heat,  equable 
temperature,  and  moisture  prevail  in  the  highest  degree. 
Everybody  has  heard  of  the  sub  tropical  vegetation  of 
palms  and  aloes,  which  flourishes  in  the  open  air  at 
Tresco  Abbey,  in  the  Scilly  Isles  ;  and  all  the  insular  or 
peninsular  portions  of  the  shore  exposed  to  the  full  flow 
of  the  Gulf  Stream  are  almost  equally  peculiar  in  the 
southern  character  of  their  native  flora.  Thus  in  the 
rocky  clefts  of  the  Steep  Ilolm  the  deep  red  blossoms  of 
the  true  peony  may  still  be  seen  profusely  in  May  and 
June,  while  it  is  found  wild  nowhere  else  in  Europe 
nearer  than  the  Pyrenees  ;  and  on  Lundy  the  wild 
asparagus  covers  the  granite  of  the  shore  in  many  places, 
though  now  almost  extinct  elsewhere  in  Great  Britain, 
save  perhaps  at  Asparagus  Island  in  Kynanco  Cove  near 


74 


COLIN   clout's  calendar. 


•i      1 

1 

i 

■   1^ 

the  Lizard,  and  some  lialf -dozen  other  similar  places. 
It  would  bo  easy  enough  to  make  a  long  list  of  such 
sonthorn  plants  which  still  linger  on  in  a  few  scattered 
spots  of  Devonshire,  Cornwall,  and  Kerry — relics  of  the 
old  flora  of  the  submerged  land  between  France,  Spain, 
and  Ireland  ;  but  perhaps  a  yet  more  interesting  fact 
about  Lundy  is  the  fact  that  it  has  in  all  probability 
actually  developed  two  new  animals  of  its  own. 

Of  course,  the  animals  are  not  very  large  or  very 
ferocious  ;  if  they  were  there  would  not  be  much  room 
for  them  on  Lundy.  But  an  animal  is  an  animal,  what- 
ever its  size  may  be,  and  the  mere  appearance  of  two 
separate  animals  on  the  rocky  boss  of  Lundy,  and  no- 
where else  in  the  world,  is  certainly  in  itself  a  sufficiently 
surprising  instance  of  local  evolution.  They  are,  in  fact, 
nothing  more  than  two  small  beetles.  It  is,  of  course, 
possible  that  these  beetles  may  belong  to  the  old  fauna 
of  the  Bristol  Channel,  lust  >  some  of  the  plants  almost 
certainly  do,  being  found  elsewhere  on  the  Continent  .at 
the  present  day.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  far  more 
probable,  I  think,  that  they  are  true  natives  of  Lundy, 
sons  of  the  soil  developed  on  the  spot  ;  for  it  is  well 
known  that  species  are  particularly  apt  to  vary  on 
islands,  and  the  more  so  the  smaller  their  area  and  the 
more  peculiar  their  climate.  The  intervening  sea  prevents 
free  reinforcement  of  the  original  breed  from  the  main- 
land ;  and  so  new  varieties  adapted  to  the  special 
circumstances  soon  establish  themselves,  and  before  long 
grow  into  distinct  species.  Even  in  so  large  an  island 
as  Great  Britain  itself,  but  recently  separated  from  the 
Continent,  we  have  already  one  peculiar  native  bird — the 
Scotch  grouse,  which,  as  everybody  knows,  is  not  found 
anywhere  else  in  the  world  ;  while  we  have  several 
native  butterflies,  as  well  as  dozens  and  dozens  of  in- 


A   SUMMER  TRIP. 


75 


cipient  varieties,  which  may  possibly  establish  them- 
selves as  species  in  the  course  of  time.  But  in  our 
smaller  outlying  islands,  witli  their'ecjuable  temperature 
and  very  insular  character,  including  generally  the 
absence  of  many  common  enemies  —  such  as  birds  of 
prey,  foxes,  weasels,  and  so  forth — numbers  of  separate 
local  species  have  been  noted  by  Mr.  Wallace  and  other 
investigal  )rs.  Thus,  Shetland  and  the  Isle  of  Wight 
have  each  a  peculiar  beetle  of  their  own  ;  Man  has  a 
dwarf  butterfly  and  a  tailless  cat ;  Guernsey  has  a  caddis- 
lly  all  to  itself  ;  and  the  Kerry  Mountains  (almost  insular 
in  climate  and  abounding  in  peculiar  plants  of  southern 
type)  have  a  water-snail.  Almost  every  little  island  has 
also  numerous  local  varieties.  These  cases  are  quite 
different  from  that  of  the  Steej)  Ilolm  peony,  which  is 
merely  a  flower  belonging  to  the  great  chain  from  the 
Caucasus  to  the  Pyrenees,  reapj^earing  in  an  isolated 
spot  in  Britain  ;  whereas  the  peculiar  island  animals  are 
confined  to  these  small  areas,  on  w-hich  therefore  they 
have  presumably  been  developed.  Furthermore,  lakes 
are  to  the  world  of  water  what  islands  are  to  the  world 
of  land  ;  and  Dr.  Giinther  has  shown  that  almost  every 
mountain  tarn  in  Scotland,  Ireland,  and  the  Orkneys  lias 
its  own  peculiar  species  of  trout  or  charr.  Putting  rU 
these  things  together,  then,  it  seems  very  probable  that 
the  two  Lundy  beetles  have  really  been  developed  on 
the  island  itself  from  ancestral  forms  similar  to  those  of 
England,  but  specially  selected  under  the  particular 
circumstances  of  the  locality  in  which  their  lot  was  cast. 
If  all  the  outlying  eyots  of  Kerry,  Connemara,  and  the 
Hebrides  were  equally  well  searched,  it  is  extremely 
likely  that  dozens  more  and  similar  cases  of  insular 
species  would  be  discovered  without  much  difficulty. 


XIV. 


•1 


THE   CLOVER   BLOOMS. 

It  is  dry  enough  to-day  to  sit  on  the  edge  of  the  bank 
here,  overlooking  the  sea,  and  watcli  the  stone-boats 
loading  great  nodules  of  blue  lias  from  the  cliff  to  send 
away  for  cement  in  the  two  big  clumsy  coasting- vessels 
that  ride  awkwardly  at  anchor  among  the  few  small 
trawlers  alongside  our  tiny  quay.  This  long  mouna- 
shaped  hillock  on  whose  side  I  am  seated  bears  among 
the  children  the  fanciful  name  of  the  Giant's  Grave  ;  and, 
indeed,  at  first  sight  you  might  easily  take  it  for  a  huge 
artificial  barrow  of  the  oldest  prehistoric  type.  It  is  in 
reality,  however,  a  natural  formation  after  all — an  oblong 
mass  of  loose  rubbly  chert  tumbled  from  the  cliff  above 
in  winter  weather,  and  long  ago  worn  down  by  frost  and 
rain  to  a  round,  smooth,  level  contour.  Among  the 
close-bitten  turf  on  its  shallow  surface-soil,  a  little  strag- 
gling and  creeping  white  clover  seems  to  form  the  chief 
element.  1  have  known  it  well  for  years  on  this  self- 
same knoll ;  for  it  has  a  wonderful  knack  of  clinging  to 
any  spot  where  it  has  once  established  itself  ;  which  is 
not  by  any  means  surprising  when  one  comes  to  learn  its 
peculiar  economy.  It  is  a  special  form  of  clover  adapted 
to  dry  sandy  or  gravelly  pastures,  bat  above  all  to  shal- 
low sheep-cropped  sward  like  that  of  the  knap  here  ; 
and  it  has  learned  in  a  marvellous  fashion  how  to  pro- 
tect itself  against  all  the  dangers  to  which  the  life  of  a 
fodder-plant  is  exposed  in  such  difficult  haunts. 

The  clovers  as  a  group,  indeed,  are  well  worth  an 


THE   CLOVER   BLOOMS. 


77 


hour's  Bhuly  ;  and  this  particular  clover  is  certainly  one 
of  the  most  interesting  anioncj  thcni.  I  suppose  it  will 
sound  like  a  ])aradox  to  say  that  these  little  creeping 
herbs  rank  as  the  most  developed  of  all  the  pea-flower 
tribe  ;  especially  when  one  considers  the  tall  tree-like 
laburnums,  acacias,  and  locusts  of  our  shrubberies,  or 
the  great  stout-stemmed  clind)ing  wistaria  on  our  garden- 
walls  ;  yet  such  is  the  fact.  The  clovers  have  undergone 
a  greater  amount  of  modification  to  suit  their  special 
liabits  than  any  other  species  among  them  all.  They 
are  distinctly  bee-flowers  to  a  very  liigh  degree.  Look 
at  that  bii'  blusterini?  humble-bee  down  on  the  level 
there  :  he  is  out  this  morning  on  a  special  hunt  after 
clover-honey  ;  for  bees,  like  prudent  human  beings,  never 
mix  their  nectars  ;  they  stick  to  one  kind  of  flower  at  a 
time,  and  probably  (though  this  is  not  yet  certain)  store 
each  cell  with  a  single  sort  of  honey  only.  It  is  that 
which  gives  the  higher  insects  their  value  as  fertilizers  : 
if  they  went  about  indiscriminately  from  one  kind  of 
flower  to  another  they  would  do  no  good  at  all,  or  else 
would  only  produce  monstrous  and  infertile  hybrids. 
There  are  many  volatile  insects  that  flit  about  in  this 
unconscious  way  from  species  to  species  ;  and  those  are 
the  unwelcc".iv  visitors  against  which  our  flowers  fortify 
themseh  ^  w;  h  dl  sorts  of  hairs,  prickles,  bristles,  and 
scal^^",.  .1*1)1  i>ov  ,  on  tlie  other  hand,  just  watch  the 
1mm  .J '3- bee  o^v  there.  He  goes  soberly  about  in  the 
most  business-like.manner  from  head  to  head  of  the  red 
clover  only,  taking  no  notice  at  all  of  the  creamy  Dutch 
clover  that  grows  in  and  out  among  it,  nor  of  this  little 
creeping  variety  that  covers  the  surface  of  the  hummock 
here.  For  a  moment  now  he  sniffs  suspiciously  at  an- 
other red  flower  among  the  grass,  much  like  his  favorite 
for  the  day  in  tone  of  color  ;  but  it  turns  out  to  be  only 


■  i 


;  1. 


I? 


78 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


ii'i 


iiiiij 
II 


i  ! 


a  vetch  ;  and  he  sails  away  with  an  obvious  air  of  dis- 
gust, like  one  distracted  from  pressing  business  for  a 
w^hile  by  a  bit  of  idle  inquiry.  Now  lie  is  buried  deep 
in  another  head  of  red  clover,  sucking  the  honey  quickly 
from  each  ripe  purple  floret,  one  after  another,  and 
passing  by  the  over-ripe  ones  at  once,  without  even  a 
glance,  like  an  experienced  v^orkman  that  he  is. 

Indeed,  this  particular  English  red  clover  is  so  v/hoUy 
specialized  to  suit  our  own  humble-bees  that  it  cannot 
set  its  seed  without  them.  The  proboscis  of  the  hive-bee 
id  not  long  enough  to  reach  the  honey.  In  New  Zealand, 
for  many  years  it  has  been  necessary  to  import  clover- 
seed  for  each  croj)  from  England,  because  there  were  no 
humble-bees  in  the  colony  ;  and  so  seriously  has  the 
want  of  these  useful  fertilizer  been  felt  that  P'^veral 
attempts  have  been  made,  not  very  successfully  as  yet, 
to  acclimatize  them  in  the  islands.  That  is  perhaps  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  practical  applications  of  what 
seems  at  first  sight  purely  otiose  scientific  knowledge 
that  has  ever  yet  been  made.  I  think  it  is  Professor 
Huxley  who  quaintly  remarks  somewhere  that  the  fer- 
tility of  the  clover  in  any  district  ultimately  depends  in 
part  upon  the  number  of  old  maids.  For  the  clover  is 
fertilized  by  the  bees  ;  but  the  bees,  again,  are  greatly 
thinned  by  harvest-mice  ;  and  the  harvest-mice  in  turn 
are  much  devoured  by  cats  ;  and  the  cats,  finally,  are 
chiefly  kept  by  old  maids.  The  more  cats,  therefore, 
the  fewer  the  harvest-mice,  and  the  fewer  harvest-mice 
the  more  bees.  Omitting  the  old  mai(3s  as  perhaps  too 
curious  an  addition  to  the  series,  the  chain  of  causes  and 
effects  well  illustrates  the  infinite  and  infinitesimal  inter- 
action, the  constant  cycle  of  relations,  obtaining  between 
every  part  of  the  organic  world. 

1  pick  a  head  of  red  clover  and  a  stalk  of  this,  creep- 


1 


THE   CLOVER  BLOOMS. 


79 


ing  white  kind,  to  look  into  tliem  a  little  more  closely. 
First,  let  us  begin  upon  the  more  normal  red  form.  It 
is  made  up  of  some  thirty  or  forty  tiny  purplish  pea- 
flowers,  each  with  a  little  red  hairy  calyx  of  its  own  ; 
the  whole  set  of  hairs  mingling  together  below  so  as  to 
form  a  perfect  miniature  forest,  through  which  no  thiev- 
ing ant  can  possibly  force  his  way  to  the  honey  store. 
Nothing  bothera  ants  like  hairs  ;  and  Sir  John  Lubbock 
found  that  they  could  not  climb  up  on  to  a  table  or  safe 
if  only  a  little  fur  was  gummed  around  its  legs.  But 
though  the  florets  of  the  clover  are  essentially  pea-flowers, 
tliey  are  not  pea- flowers  of  the  common  and  ordinary 
type.  They  clo  not  consist,  like  the  blossoms  of  the 
garden-pea  or  the  laburnum,  of  four  distinct  and  separate 
petals  :  all  their  parts  have  grown  together  at  the  base  by 
the  claws,  so  as  to  form  a  single  deep  and  narrow  tube. 
That  makes  them  such  favorites  with  the  bees  ;  while, 
conversely,  it  is  the  constant  selective  action  of  the  bees 
which  has  enabled  them  to  assume  this  specialized  form. 
The  most  tubular  blossoms  are  those  the  bee  always 
chooses  by  preference  ;  and  when  tlie  tube  is  so  deep 
and  narrow  as  it  is  in  red  clover,  the  bee  knows  that  no 
other  insect  can  reach  the  nectar  but  himself,  and  so 
feels  sure  of  obtaining  a  guaranteed  drop  of  honey  as  the 
reward  for  his  services.  At  the  same  time,  as  the 
stamens  have  also  coalesced  with  the  petal  tube,  he  can- 
not fail  to  fertilize  the  head  while  helping  himself  to  the 
honey.  This  makes  red  clover  a  very  successful  plant, 
as  you  can  easily  see  by  looking  about  you  in  the  fields 
anywhere.  It  also  makes  it  good  fodder  ;  for  as  each 
flower  has  a  pod  with  only  one  big  bean  or  seed  inside 
it,  the  whole  head  contains  a  large  number  of  beans, 
rich  in  starches  and  gluten  as  foodstuffs.  It  is  always  the 
seeds  that  are  the  most  useful  for  food  ;  not  tjie  mere 


( 


80 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


I 


'|ii 


^1      i\ 


■!  ' 


'A 


hard,  stringy  leaves  and  stalks.  Evei7body  knows  the 
difference  in  effect  between  a  feed  of  oats  and  a  feed  of 
straw.  Pulse,  indeed,  forms  the  most  valuable  set  of 
fodder  plants  and  human  foodstuffs  in  the  world,  except 
only  the  grasses  ;  because  the  seeds  are  almost  always 
large  and  well  supplied  with  albumen.  Cows  will  turn 
aside  from  any  grass  to  red  clover.  Observe,  too,  that 
these  clover  blossoms,  like  most  other  highly  specialized 
bee-flowers,  are  purple.  The  common  small  pea-blos- 
soms, such  as  nonsuch,  lotus,  kidney- vetch,  and  medick, 
are  all  yellow  ;  and  so  are  even  gorse  and  broom.  Some 
of  the  smaller  and  simpler  clovers,  too,  still  retain  this 
aboriginal  yellow  hue  ;  but  the  better  kinds,  which  have 
advanced  further  in  specialization  for  bees,  preserve  for 
us  the  various  upward  stages  of  white,  cream-color,  pink, 
red,  and  scarlet,  till  at  last  we  reach  the  highest  level  in 
these  purple  heads — the  highest  level,  that  is  to  say,  yet 
attained  by  a  clover  ;  for  no  species  of  the  genus  has  so 
far  acquired  the  most  peculiar  bee-tint  of  all,  which  is 
dark  blue  or  ultramarine,  as  seen  in  the  violet  or  the 
bngloss. 

And  now  let  us  look  at  the  little  white  straggling 
kind  of  clover  which  grows  all  over  the  shallow  grass 
of  the  knoll  here.  In  shape,  its  florets  are  just  the  same 
long  tubular  blossoms  as  those  of  the  purple  clover  ;  but 
there  are  only  two  or  three  of  them  on  each  head,  instead 
of  forty  or  fifty.  See  how  well  adapted  they  are,  how- 
ever, to  their  habitat.  The  stems  and  leaves  and  buds 
creep  prostrate  along  the  ground,  so  as  to  get  as  much 
as  possible  out  of  the  way  of  the  ':?lose-biting  sheep; 
but  the  flowers  turn  up  straight  just  at  the  moment  of 
blossoming,  so  as  to  catch  the  attention  of  the  passing 
bee.  Both  k-iids  are  sweet-scented,  like  most  bee- 
flowers,  and  with  a  very  suggestive  savor  of  honey  in 


m^. 


T-1 


THE   CLOVER   BLOOMS. 


81 


their  scent  too.  As  soon  as  the  white  kind  has  been  fer- 
tilized, however,  it  turas  down  its  head  toward  the 
ground,  so  as  to  save  the  swelling  pods  from  the  hungry 
sheep.  At  the  same  time  the  stem  lengthens,  and  a 
very  curious  change  begins  to  take  place  in  the  head.  If 
you  look  close  into  the  flowering  branches,  you  will  see 
a  small  green  knob  in  the  centre,  between  the  three 
florets.  This  knob  really  consists  of  the  other  undevel- 
oped blossoms  which  once  formed  the  head,  for  it  ought 
by  descent  to  have  at  least  ten  or  twelve  instead  of  three. 
After  the  pods  begin  to  set,  and  the  stem  to  turn  down- 
ward, these  undeveloped  blossoms  grow  out  into  short 
thick  fibres,  each  five-fingered  at  the  tip,  as  a  reminis- 
cence of  the  five  lobes  which  once  went  to  make  up  the 
original  calyx.  As  the  stem  lengthens,  the  fingers  push 
their  way  slowly  into  the  loose  earth  with  a  screw-like 
action,  and  at  last  make  a  hole  for  the  three  pods,  which 
have  already  turned  back  on  their  stalks,  so  as  to  offer  as 
little  resistance  as  possible  to  the  soil.  Thus  the  plant 
actually  buries  its  own  seeds  out  of  the  way  of  all  depre- 
dators ;  and  there  they  ripen  and  lie  securely  till  next 
spring's  rain  quickens  them  afresh.  In  this  way  alone 
could  the  subterranean  clover — for  that  is  its  name — sur- 
vive with  safety  in  its  shallow  closely  cropped  pasture 
grounds.  Yet  how  wonderful  the  action  of  natural 
selection  here  makes  the  plant  simulate  intelligence  and 
volition.  More  than  half  the  flowers  have  been  altered 
into  barren  fibres  to  act  as  picks  or  augers  in  the  earth  ; 
and  the  stem  has  acquired  the  habit  of  turning  up,  and 
then  turning  down  :  all  for  the  sake  of  burying  the  three 
remaining  fertile  blossoms  in  the  soil,  and  securing  the 
safety  of  their  few  seeds.  Indeed,  it  is  often  easiest  to 
formulate  the  whole  series  of  changes  to  oneself  in  such 
terms  as  one  would  naturally  apply  to  a  conscious  and 


82 


coLix  clout's  calendar. 


li 


I'll 


i 

J? 
ill 


self-governing  living  creature  ;  and  it  is  this  that  adds 
such  a  charm  to  the  new  conception  of  nature  which  has 
been  opened  before  the  naturalists  of  the  present  genera- 
tion. We  need  no  longer  think  of  the  plants  as  things 
that  were  made  once  for  all ;  we  may  think  of  them  as 
tilings  that  grew  and  improved  and  almost  invented  ;  and 
that  idea  immensely  deepens  the  interest  with  which  we 
can  watch  all  their  innocent  ways  and  curious  half- 
reasoning  ingenious  devices. 


I': 


■t 

I 


XV. 


EARLY    SEEDTIME. 


It  is  wonderful  to  see  liow  quickly  the  first  spring 
plants  manage  to  set  and  ripen  tlieir  stock  of  seeds. 
Already  one  hasty  crop  has  been  duly  shed,  and  now  in 
this  genial  May  weather  the  second  detachment  of  early 
perennials  is  beginning  to  scatter  its  ripe  fruit  broadcast 
over  the  basking  fields.  Stage  sfter  stage,  in  regular 
succession,  they  follow  one  another  like  waves  on  the 
sea,  each  lilling  up  a  little  special  corner  in  the  rural  cal- 
endar, and  each  monopohzing  for  the  time  some  one  or 
other  of  the  active  external  agencies  by  whoso  aid  vege- 
table life  is  necessarily  carried  on.  Even  now  the  three 
sets  of  buttercups  aro  seen  here  on  the  farm  in  three 
stages  side  by  side  ;  the  lesser  celandine,  earliest  of  the 
group,  has  blossomed  long  ago,  and  is  now  letting  its 
ripe  capsules  fall  one  by  one  from  the  globular  heads  ; 
the  bulbous  buttercup,  next  in  order  of  time,  still  shows  a 
few  open  flowers  here  and  there,  but  most  of  them  have 
dropped  tlieir  petals,  and  have  the  green  capsules  just 
swelling  with  the  young  seeds  ;  finally,  the  tall  meadow 
buttercups  and  the  creeping  species,  latest  of  the  com- 
mon kinds,  are  only  now  for  tlie  first  time  opening  their 
golden  buds.  But  the  most  conspicuous  seeds  of  all  in 
the  Fore  Acre  just  at  ])resent  are  the  dandelion  clocks  ; 
and  it  is  pleasant  to  sit  in  the  sun  and  watch  the  wind 
taking  off  one  little  feathery  parachute  after  another 
from  the  head,  till  the  smooth  rovmd  disk  is  left  at  last 
bald  and  naked.     If  we  were  not  so  accustomed  to  dan- 


Si 


COLIN   clout's  calendar. 


If   : 

it 


clelion  clocks  from  our  babyhood  upward,  tliey  would 
certainly  strike  us  as  being  very  curious  and  interesting 
objects  indeed. 

If  you  pull  a  blossoming  head  of  dandelio/i  to  pieces, 
you  see  at  once  that  it  is  not  a  single  flower,  as  it  appears 
at  first  sight,  but  a  whole  collection  of  tiny  separate 
florets  crowded  together  in  a  bunch  on  a  circular  disk  or 
cushion.  Each  floret  stands  complete  in  itself,  with  a 
tubular  yellow  corolla,  a  set  of  wee  slender  stamens,  and 
a  delicate  two-lobed  pistil  in  the  centre,  both  lobes  being 
curled  round  gracefully  like  a  ram's  horn.  It  has  its  own 
fniit,  too  :  a  small  white  object  at  the  bottom,  looking 
exactly  like  a  single  seed,  as  it  practically  is.  In  the 
daisy  you  get  something  of  the  sa^ne  arrangement ;  only 
there  the  yellow  florets  of  the  central  part  are  bell- 
shaped,  like  miniature  hyacinths  or  heath-blossoms,  and 
only  the  pink-tipped  outer  rays  are  split  down  one  side 
so  as  to  make  their  corolla  more  like  a  strap  than  a  cup 
or  bell.  In  the  dandelion,  on  the  other  hand,  the  same 
tendency  has  gone  a  little  further,  and  all  the  florets  in 
the  head  have  become  strap-shaped  rays,  so  as  to  let  vari- 
ous small  insects  get  easily  at  the  drop  of  honey  w^hich 
each  floret  secretes  in  the  nectary  at  its  base.  The  daisy 
is  a  comparatively  exclusive  plant,  which  lays  itself  out 
mainly  for  distinguished  visitors  ;  the  dandelion  is  a 
sort  of  common  innkeeper,  which  welcomes  all  comers 
equally  without  regard  to  rank  or  station.  So  we  see  the 
tastes  of  their  different  clients  reflected  in  their  own 
colors.  Tlie  daisy  has  evolved  white  rays  with  pink  tips 
to  satisfy  the  eyes  of  a  more  sesthetically  exacting  circle  ; 
the  dandelion  retains  the  primitive  yellow  corolla  of  its 
kind,  the  hue  that  best  suits  the  requirements  of  mis- 
cellaneous small  flies  and  petty  honey-seeking  beetles. 
Each  in  its  07n  way  has  proved  very  successful  ]  for  do 


'm 


1 


EARLY   SEEDTIME. 


85 


not  daisies  and  dandelions  grow  everywhere  ?  Bnl;  on 
the  whole,  as  nsnally  happens,  the  higher  typo  is  the 
most  snccessful  of  the  two.  Both  largely  owe  their  ad- 
vancement in  life  to  their  serried  rows  of  flowers,  w'lich 
allow  the  bee  or  bnttei-flj^  to  pass  from  one  tlorot  to 
another  with  esse,  and  to  fertilize  many  blossoms  at  once 
for  a  very  sma'l  return  in  the  way  of  honey. 

All  this,  however,  has  very  little  to  do  with  the  dan- 
delion clock,  though  it  is  necessary  by  way  of  prelimi- 
nary to  the  consideration  of  those  fluffy  balls.  The  clock 
consists  of  the  rest  of  the  florets  after  the  corolla  has 
fallen  off.  The  lower  part,  of  course,  is  the  seed,  or 
rather  the  fruit ;  but  what  is  the  upper  part,  the  little 
parachute  of  white  silky  hairs  ?  ^Vell,  this  curious  ap- 
pendage represents  one  of  the  most  singular  and  instruc- 
tive transformations  in  all  nature.  Pull  out  one  of  the 
blossoming  florets  from  the  yellow  dandelion-head,  and 
you  will  see  it  is  surrounded  by  a  circular  group  of  small 
hairs.  These  hairs  are  all  that  remains  of  the  original 
caly?:,  which  had  for  its  function  the  protection  of  the 
flower  from  intrusive  insects.  But  when  the  dwarfed 
and  clustered  blossoms  of  tlie  original  ancestor  from 
whom  both  daisy  and  dandelion  are  descended  grew  into 
a  single  compact  head,  the  use  of  the  separate  calyx  was 
practically  gone,  and  its  place  a  number  of  bracts  were 
produced  as  an  involucre  around  the  entire  head,  sub- 
serving the  same  function  for  thf>  compound  blossom  as 
the  calyx  once  subserved  for  each  of  its  component 
members. 

Under  such  circumstances,  one  of  two  things  must 
needs  happen  :  either  the  calyx  must  become  obsolete 
through  disuse  or  must  be  preserved  by  adapting  itself 
to  a  new  function.  In  the  daisy,  the  first  result  has 
come  about ;  in  the  dandelion,  the  second.     The  calyx 


%, 


86 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


I- 


here  has  grown  small  and  hair-like,  and  acts  as  a  sail  or 
wing  for  the  light  little  fruit.  Thus  the  wind  catches 
the  seeds  when  ripe  and  carries  them  away  to  every  part 
of  the  field.  In  the  simpler  plants  of  the  dandelion  kind 
there  are  only  a  few  of  these  silky  hairs  seated  perpen- 
dicularly on  the  summit  of  the  fruit,  and  the  subsidiary 
devices  for  dispersion  are  far  less  perfect.  But  in  the 
dandelion  itself,  which  is  a  very  highly  adapted  type — 
all  these  common  weeds  always  are,  and  that  is  what 
makes  them  so  common — the  top  of  the  fruit  grows  out 
into  a  long  beak,  on  which  the  hairs  spread  laterally  in  a 
circle,  so  as  to  present  the  largest  possibly  surface  to  the 
favoring  breeze.  Even  in  the  dandelion,  however,  the 
hairs  themselves  are  straight  and  simple  ;  in  its  near  rela- 
tive, John-go-to-bed-at-noon,  the  hairs  are  much  longer, 
and  are  subdivided  into  feathery  branches  on  either  side, 
which  make  an  interlacing  parachute  even  better  adapted 
for  driving  before  the  wind  than  that  of  its  more  familiar 
kinsmen. 

The  reason  why  plants  take  all  this  trouble  to  get  their 
seeds  dispersed  is  a  simple  one,  and  yet  it  might  not 
immediately  strike  everybody.  Wliy  should  they  not  let 
them  drop  out  upon  the  ground  just  underneath  their  own 
branches  ?  For  the  very  same  reason  that  the  farmer 
does  not  crop  the  same  land  with  corner  turnips  ten 
years  running.  The  plants  had  unconsciously  discovered 
rotation  of  crops  ages  before  the  agriculturists  conscious- 
ly hit  upon  it.  A  w^eed  cannot  grow  over  and  over 
again  in  the  same  place,  any  more  than  flax  or  horse- 
beans  ;  it  soon  uses  up  the  soil,  which  must  then  lie  fal- 
low a  little,  or  else  bear  some  less  exhausting  plant — that 
is  to  say,  some  plant  that  does  not  drain  it  of  the  same 
materials  as  its  last  occupant.  Hence  those  wild  things 
which  happened  to  show  any  tendency  toward  dispersive 


KARLY   SEEDTIMK. 


87 


devices  have  outrun  all  others  in  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence ;  indeed,  dispersion  in  some  form  or  other  has 
become  an  absolute  necessity  for  every  kiiu^  of  plant  in 
a  state  of  nature.  Some  of  them  manage  it  by  produc- 
ing tubers  side  by  side  with  the  decayed  c  les,  like  the 
orchidf  ;  others  send  out  runners  or  suckers  like  the 
strawberry  and  the  creeping  buttercup  ;  yet  others 
sprout  afresh  here  and  there  from  underground  stocks  or 
rest  '^e  stores,  like  coltsfoot  or  potatoes.  But  b}'  far  the 
greater  number  manage  to  get  their  seeds  scattered  for 
them  either  by  the  wind  or  by  means  of  animals  ;  lor 
these  two  main  motor  powers  of  the  environment  are 
always  utilized  for  every  purpose  by  plants,  whose  own 
powers  of  locomotion  arc  so  very  feeble.  Sometimes 
the  seeds  stick,  like  burrs  and  cleavers,  to  the  wool  of 
sheep  or  the  hair  of  animals,  and  are  rubbed  off  at  last 
against  a  hedge  or  a  post,  at  a  distance  from  the  mother- 
plant.  Sometimes  they  are  swallowed  whole  but  not 
digested,  as  in  the  strawberry,  raspberry,  and  cherry. 
Sometimes  they  i^re  carried  before  the  wind  by  expanded 
wings,  as  in  the  maple,  the  sycamore,  and  the  ash. 
Sometimes  they  are  borne  up  by  light  hairs  or  down,  as 
in  the  willow,  the  cotton,  and  the  dandelion.  Occasion- 
ally even  the  plant  itself  supplies  the  necessary  energy  ; 
and  of  this  the  small  green  bittercress  growing  on  the 
wall  by  Yenlake  affords  at  the  present  moment  an  excel- 
lent example.  Bittercress  has  long,  straight,  upriglit 
pods,  like  charlock  or  cabbage,  and  it  thrives  for  the 
most  part  on  dry  banks  or  high  open  places.  When  the 
seeds  are  ripe  the  sides  of  the  pod  unroll  elastically,  by 
the  unequal  drying  of  their  stringy  libres  ;  and  as  they 
do  so  they  shoot  out  the  little  seeds  like  popguns,  and 
scatter  them  to  a  distance  of  six  or  seven  feet ;  as  one  can 
easily  see  by  picking  an  unripe  spray  and  spreading  a 


( 


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n\- 


I 


88 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


newspaper  on  the  floor  around  it  when  it  ripens.  Chil- 
dren well  know  this  liabit  of  bittercress,  and  will  press 
their  fingers  on  the  tip  of  the  dry  capsules  to  make 
them  explode  ;  if  they  are  fully  ripe  they  go  off  at  once 
with  a  little  bang.  Garden  balsams  do  much  the  same 
thing  a  little  later  in  the  season.  Indeed,  there  is  no 
plant  which  does  not  possess  some  special  plan  or  other 
to  secure  fresh  fields  and  pastures  new  from  time  to 
time  ;  and  to  trace  these  out  is  another  of  the  pleasures 
that  we  countrymen  derive  from  following  the  epochs  of 
our  rustic  calendar.  Every  day  brings  its  manifold 
changes,  and  almost  all  go  unsung  carent  quia  vate 
sac7'o.  The  little  that  one  man  can  put  on  record  is  but 
a  tHhe  or  a  hundredth  part  of  the  infinite  variety  they 
display. 


n 


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XVI. 


A  squirbkl's  nest. 

I  HAD  long  known  there  must  be  a  sqnlrrers  nest  in 
tlic  big  tree  at  the  corner  of  the  avenue,  for  I  liave  often 
remarked  spUt  shells  of  hazel-nuts  lying  about  loosely  at 
its  roots  ;  and  nut-shells  split  in  such  a  fashion  always 
indicate  the  presence  of  a  squirrel.  There  are  three 
creatures  in  England  that  largely  feed  upon  filberts — the 
squirrel,  the  field-mouse,  and  the  nuthatch  ;  and  when 
you  find  an  empty  nut  you  can  easily  tell  which  of  the 
three  has  been  at  it  by  the  way  they  each  adopt  in  get- 
ting out  the  kernel.  The  squirrel  holds  the  luit  firmly 
between  liis  fore-paws,  rasps  off  the  sharp  end  by  gnaw- 
ing it  across,  and  then  splits  the  soft  fresh  shell  down 
longitudinally  with  his  long  front  teeth,  exactly  in  the 
same  way  as  a  ploughboy  splits  it  with  a  side-jerk  of  his 
jack-knife.  The  field-mouse  presses  the  nut  against  the 
ground  with  his  feet,  and  drills  a  very  small  hole  in  it 
with  his  sharp  incisors,  through  which,  by  turning  the 
shell  round  and  round  in  his  paws,  he  picks  out  the  ker- 
nel piecemeal.  The  nuthatch,  having  no  paws  to  spare, 
fixes  the  filbert  in  the  fork  of  a  small  branch  or  the 
chink  of  a  post,  and  pecks  an  irregular  breach  in  it  with 
his  hard  beak  ;  the  breach  being  easily  distinguishable 
from  the  neat  workmanlike  round  gimlet-hole  made  by 
the  field-mouse.  But  although  I  knew  the  squirrel  was 
there  by  circumstantial  evidence,  I  had  never  seen  him 
till  pfter  the  great  storm  tore  up  the  tree,  roots  and  all, 
and  strewed  it,  a  huge  ruin,  right  across  the  face  of  the 


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90 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


park  close  by  the  gate-house.  Even  then  he  did  not  at 
once  desert  his  home,  before  the  laborers  be^an  hacking 
off  the  branches  ;  when  he  quietly  betook  himself  with 
his  family  to  a  neighboring  oak,  whither  he  has  since 
transferred  by  night  the  scanty  remainder  of  his  spring 
hoard. 

Tlie  relics  of  the  hoard  are  still  to  be  seen  in  the  aban- 
doned hole,  a  deep  recess  where  a  gnarled  bough  had 
made  a  natural  scar,  improved  upon  with  careful  art  by 
many  generations  of  squirrels.  There  are  acorn-skins, 
split  shells  of  cob-nuts,  beech-mast,  and  other  mouldering 
spoils  in  plenty — the  ancestral  shards  of  many  a  winter 
feast.  Indeed,  it  is  curious  how  the  trees  and  the  ani- 
mals have  managed  in  this  matter  so  cleverly  to  outwit 
each  other  in  the  see-saw  of  continuous  adaptation.  For 
the  nuts  have  acquired  their  hard  shells  to  get  the  better 
of  the  squirrels ;  and  the  squirrels  have  acquired  their 
long  pointed  teeth  to  get  the  better  of  the  nut-shells. 
Yet  even  at  the  present  day,  when  the  balance  of  victory 
apparently  inclines  for  the  moment  to  the  side  of  the 
squirrel,  the  trees  are  not  without  their  occasional  re- 
venge, since  some  nuts  either  prove  too  hard  for  the  dep- 
redators or  are  forgotten  in  the  abundance  of  supplies  ; 
and  so  it  has  happened  that,  in  certain  recorded  cases,  the 
existence  of  young  seedlings  in  wild  places  has  been 
demonstrably  traced  to  an  abandoned  hoard,  which  has 
afforded  a  good  supply  of  rich  manure  to  the  germinat- 
ing embryos. 

It  is  odd,  too,  how  general  among  the  rodents  is  this 
instinct  of  laying  by  supplies  for  the  winter,  due,  no 
doubt,  in  part  to  the  exceptionally  imperishable  nature  of 
their  chief  foodstuffs  (for  nuts,  grains,  and  roots  do  not 
decay  quickly,  like  fruits  or  meat),  and  in  part  to  the 
usual  close  similarity  in  their  surroundings  and  mode  of 


A  squirrel's  nest. 


91 


life.  We  can  hardly  regard  it  as  a  habit  derived  from  a 
single  common  ancestor,  because  it  appears  so  sporadi- 
cally, and  so  many  related  species  are  wholly  wanting  in 
it.  Moet  probably  it  has  been  independently  evolved  in 
the  squirrel,  the  harvest-mouse,  the  rat,  the  field-mouse, 
and  the  beaver,  from  the  fact  that  in  each  group  alike 
those  who  manifested  it  most  would  always  best  survive 
through  the  chilly  and  foodless  northern  winteis.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  storing  instinct  is  sometimes  replaced 
among  allied  animals  by  other  instincts  almost  equally 
remarkable :  as  in  the  case  of  the  dormouse,  who  gets 
over  the  same  difficulty  by  fattening  himself  inordinately 
during  the  summer,  and  then  sleeping  away  the  winter 
so  as  only  to  use  up  the  irreducible  minimum  of  food- 
stuffs in  the  absolutely  indispensable  vital  actions  of  the 
heart  and  lungs.  From  the  point  of  view  of  mere  sur- 
vival, it  would  matter  little  whether  any  particular 
group  happened  to  fall  into  the  one  practice  or  the 
other.  It  is  very  noticeable,  however,  that  while  the 
sleepiness  of  the  dormouse  has  fostered,  or  at  least  has 
not  militated  against,  a  stupidity  as  great  as  that  of  the 
guinea-pig  or  the  tame  rabbit,  the  more  active  and  prov- 
ident habits  of  the  squirrel  and  the  beaver  have  fostered 
an  amount  of  intelligence  extremely  rare  among  rodents, 
o:*,  indeed,  among  animals  generally.  I  once  kept  a 
tame  squirrel  for  some  months,  not  in  a  wretched  little 
tread-mill  cage,  but  loose  in  my  rooms  ;  and  in  affection- 
ateness  of  demeanor,  as  well  as  in  general  cleverness  of 
perceptions,  it  certainly  surpassed  a  good  many  dogs  that 
I  have  known.  Doubtless  the  habit  of  storing  food  grew 
np  at  first,  as  the  west-country  proverb  says,  more  by 
hap  than  cunning.  It  may  have  originated  merely  from 
the  thoughtlessly  greedy  practice  of  carrying  home  more 
food  at  a  time  than  was  needed  for  immediate  consump- 


I  )  ! 


92 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


tion.  Still,  though  the  custom  need  not  have  been  de- 
libera,tely  intelligent  in  its  origin,  it  must  have  tended  to 
develop  intelligence  in  the  animals  displaying  it ;  and 
even  now  it  has  hardened  into  an  inherited  instinct,  it 
may  often  be  a  very  conscious  bit  of  prevision  indeed 
with  old  squirrels  who  have  seen  more  than  one  winter, 
and  who  know  that  nuts  or  berries  cannot  always  be  ob- 
tained with  equal  ease.  At  any  rate,  the  fact  that  squir- 
rels, rats,  and  beavers  are  now  very  clever  animals  is  un- 
deniable ;  and  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  their 
cleverness  has  been  partly  brought  out  by  their  provident 
habits. 

Another  thing  that  probably  adds  to  the  physical 
basis  of  intelligence  in  squirrels  is  their  possession  of  a 
pair  of  paws  which  almost  serve  them  in  the  place  of 
hands.  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  has  pointed  out  that  many 
of  the  cleverest  animals  are  those  which  can  grasp  an 
object  all  round  with  some  prehensile  organ.  Such  ani- 
mals, in  fact,  are  the  only  ones  that  can  really  quite  un- 
derstand the  nature  of  space  of  three  dimensions.  The 
apes  and  monkeys  with  their  opposable  thumb,  the  ele- 
phants with  their  flexible  trunk  and  its  finger-like  process, 
the  parrots  with  their  prehensile  claws,  are  all  instances 
strictly  in  point.  Even  among  the  usually  stupid  marsu- 
pials, the  opossum  has  a  true  thumb  to  his  hind  foot, 
which  he  uses  like  a  hand,  besides  possessing  a  very  flex- 
ible tail ;  and  the  opossum  is  not  only  proverbially  cun- 
ning, but  he  also  has  alone  succeeded  in  holding  his  own 
among  the  highly  developed  mammals  of  America, 
while  all  the  rest  of  bis  kind  are  now  confined  to  Aus- 
tralia, their  compeers  elsewhere  having  been  killed  out 
without  exception  during  the  tertiary  period  by  the 
fierce  competition  of  the  larger  continents.  W  herever  we 
find  a  clever  animal,  like  the  dog,  without  any  grasping 


A  S(JUttiRteL*S  NEST. 


93 


power,  we  also  find  a  large  development  of  the  sense  of 
smell,  which  may  be  regarded  as  to  some  extent  com- 
pensatory. But  it  must  never  be  forgotten  that  the 
cleverness  of  the  dog  has  been  greatly  increased  by  long 
hereditary  intercourse  with  man,  while  the  cleverness  of 
the  elephant,  the  monkey,  and  the  opossum  is  all  native 
and  self-evolved.  The  squirrel's  paws  stand  him  in  al- 
most equally  good  stead.  For  though  he  has  no  opposa- 
ble thumb,  he  can  hold  a  nut  or  a  fruit  between  them, 
rolling  it  about  or  adjusting  it  meanwhile  ;  and  his  teeth 
also  serve  as  regular  tools,  which  further  enable  him  to 
manipulate  an  object  held  in  his  paws  almost  as  well  fis 
any  other  animal  except  the  apes  and  monkeys.  It  is 
observable,  too,  that  his  tail  belongs  markedly  to  one  of 
the  two  types  common  among  forestine  tree-haunting 
creatures.  Those  which  crawl  or  hang  among  the^ 
boughs  have  generally  prehensile  tails  to  aid  them  in 
grasping  the  branches  ;  those  which  nm  and  leap  from 
tree  to  tree  have  generally  bushy  tails  to  aid  them  in 
balancing  themselves,  and  to  act  as  a  sort  of  aerial  rud- 
der. In  the  flying  squirrels  and  many  other  similar  ex- 
otic t}^es  the  use  of  such  tails  as  a  parachute  is  supple- 
mented by  extensible  folds  of  loose  skin  stretching 
between  the  legs  or  the  fingers. 

A  group  which  shows  so  much  variety  of  specialization 
for  its  peculiar  functions  is  likely  to  be  an  old  one  ;  and 
in  fact  the  squirrels  rank  among  our  oldest  surviving  in- 
digenous mammals.  As  a  class,  they  date  back  as  far 
in  geological  time  as  the  lower  miocene  ;  and  even  our 
English  species  must  have  inhabited  this  country,  practi- 
cally unchanged  in  appearance  or  habits,  for  many 
thousands  of  years,  except  when  driven  temporarily 
southward  by  stress  of  passing  glacial  periods. 


i^ 


XVII. 


FOES   IN  THE   HATFIELD. 


This  week  iriDst  be  marked  not  with  chalk  but  with 
charcoal  in  the  Fasti  of  the  farm,  for  one  of  our  annual 
plagues  has  duly  recurred  in  full  vigor.  The  yellow- 
rattle  has  got  somehow  or  other  into  the  three-cornered 
Croft,  and  nothing  seems  to  be  of  any  use  to  get  rid  of 
it.  As  a  rule,  one  ought  not  to  speak  evil  of  plants 
behind  their  backs ;  but  for  a  hungry,  persistent,  de- 
liberate, designing,  importunate  parasite,  your  yellow- 
rattle  has  really  no  fellow.  There  is  not  a  single  redeem- 
ing point  about  it :  it  is  ugly,  useless,  and  uninteresting  ; 
and  it  makes  a  wretched  living  by  fastening  on  the  roots 
of  grasses  and  draining  them  dry  with  its  horrid  clinging 
suckers.  See  here  :  if  you  pull  up  a  tuft  of  meadow 
foxtail  carefully,  you  find  the  rattle  actually  engaged  in 
sucking  its  life-blood  at  this  very  moment.  Rinse  the 
two  stocks  together  in  the  basin  where  the  brook  runs 
cleai  from  the  culvert  for  a  foot  or  two  to  make  a  drink- 
ing-place  for  the  cattle,  and  when  the  soil  is  washed 
away  you  will  be  able  to  see  the  actual  mouths  by  which 
it  fastens  itself  to  the  rootlets  of  its  host.  The  hay  in 
the  croft  will  not  be  worth  much  this  season  :  it  seldom 
is ;  for  rattle  dwarfs  the  grasses  terribly,  and  makes 
hard,  dry,  stringy  fodder  itself  into  the  bargain.  There 
is  nothing  for  it  but  stubbing  the  whole  patch  ;  and 
even  that  would  be  very  little  good,  for  the  soil  here  ex- 
actly suits  its  constitution.  Curiously  enough,  just  over 
the  hedge  in  the  Fore  Acre,  there  is  not  a  single  stalk 
of  it  to  be  seen,  even  by  accident. 


FOES   IN   THE   HAYFIELD. 


95 


The  rattles  are  a  whole  group  of  half -developed  para- 
sites well  on  the  way  to  the  woi'st  stage  of  degradation, 
though  not  yet  so  utterly  degenerate  as  the  leafless  tooth- 
worts  or  the  scaly  brooinrapes.  They  can  still  grow 
feebly  if  left  to  themselves  ;  for  when  you  sow  the  seeds 
alone  in  a  flower-pot,  by  way  of  experiment,  the  young 
seedlings  will  rise  to  an  inch  or  two,  put  forth  a  few 
scrubby  leaves,  and  blossom  poorly  with  a  couple  of 
straggling  flowers  or  so.  But  when  you  let  them  have 
some  nice  vigorous  grass-plants  in  the  same  pot,  they  fix 
upon  them  immediately,  and  grow  to  a  foot  in  height, 
with  a  comparatively  fine  spike  of  pale  primrose  flowers, 
which  children  sometimes  know  as  cockscombs.  Eye- 
bright  has  just  the  same  trick  ;  and  so  havo  the  two  red- 
rattles,  cow-wheat,  and  others  of  their  kind.  There  are 
some  parasites,  like  mistletoe,  whose  parasitism  has  be- 
come so  deeply  ingrained  that  their  seeds  will  not  even 
sprout  except  on  the  body  of  a  proper  host ;  and  these 
have  adapted  themselves  to  their  peculiar  habits  by  ac- 
quiring very  sticky  berries,  which  fall  on  a  bough,  and 
are  gummed  there  by  their  own  bird-lime.  Even  such 
a  hardened  offender  as  the  mistletoe,  however,  has  par- 
tially green  leav^es  which  assimilate  food  on  their  own  ac- 
count. But  there  are  other  and  still  more  abandoned 
parasites,  like  yellow  bird's-nest,  which  have  no  leaves 
at  all,  and  camiot  provide  themselves  with  food  in  any 
way.  Yellow  bird's-nest  is  a  very  rare  plant  in  England 
— a  degraded  relation  of  the  heaths,  which  has  taken  en- 
tirely to  living  on  the  roots  of  trees,  sucking  up  their 
juices  by  its  network  of  succulent  rootlets.  Its  leaves 
have  consequently  shrunk  by  disuse  into  mere  pale  yel- 
lowish scales,  not  unlike  those  which  one  sees  on  the 
young  shoots  of  blanched  asparagus.  Now,  yellow-rattle 
and  its  kind  deserve  notice  as  showing  the  first  step  on 


\ 


N,; 


;: 


96 


COLIN   clout's   calendar. 


T-i: 


this  downward  course  :  the  initial  stage  through  which 
the  ancestors  of  the  mistletoe  must  once  have  passed,  and 
which  the  ancestors  of  the  yellow  bird's-nest  must  ages 
ago  have  left  behind  them.  The  plants  are  not  in  any 
way  related  to  one  unother  :  on  the  contrary,  they  are 
extremely  unlike,  as  far  as  pedigree  goes  ;  but  they  liavo 
all  three  independently  acquired  the  same  parasitic 
habits,  and  they  all  exhibit  different  stages  in  the  same 
process  of  degenerescence. 

Ancestrally,  yellow-rattle  is  a  near  relation  of  the 
pretty  little  blue  veronicas  and  of  the  big  purple  fox- 
gloves and  snapdragons.  It  has  a  flower  of  the  very 
highest  type — one  of  those  curious  one-sided  mask-like 
blossoms  w^ith  an  upper  and  an  under  lip  which  are  the 
product  of  special  insect  fertilization  and  selection  ex- 
erted throughout  innumerable  generations.  Flowers  of 
such  a  sort  are  the  birthright  of  the  most  advanced  fami- 
lies alone.  But  this  particular  snapdragon  family  is  one 
of  the  most  plastic  and  versatile  in  all  nature.  It  may 
seem  fanciful  to  say  so,  but  there  are  certain  groups  of 
plants  which  reaWy  appear  to  be  cleverer  and  shiftier 
than  all  others,  to  have  a  greater  power  of  adapting  them- 
selves by  strange  side  modifications  to  the  most  diverse 
situations.  Perhaps  one  ought  rather  to  say  that  they 
are  groups  whose  ancestors  have  undergone  much  varia- 
tion, so  that  at  last  a  ten'lency  to  vary  easily  has  become 
hereditary  with  them  all.  Of  such  families,  the  orchids 
and  the  snapdragons  are  the  most  conspicuous  ;  and  they 
differ  so  miich  and  so  quaintly  among  themselves  that 
one  can  hardly  avoid  involuntarily  attributing  to  them  a 
sort  of  human  spontaneity  and  deliberate  design.  Some 
of  them  mimic  the  forms  and  colors  of  insects  ;  others 
assume  the  most  fantastic  shapes  and  hues — apparently 
out  of  pure  wantonness,  but  really  in  order  to  insure 


Ini 


FOES  IN  THE  HAYFIELD. 


97 


fertilization  by  tho  oddest  and  most  improbable  methods. 
The  common  snapdragon,  for  example,  has  the  mouth 
of  its  blossom  tightly  closed  by  a  projecting  palate,  so  as 
to  exclude  all  insects  except  the  correlated  kind  of  bee, 
whose  weight  as  he  lights  on  tho  lip  suffices  to  press 
down  the  door  and  give  aim  access  to  the  sealed  tube, 
with  its  nectar  secreted  in  a  little  pouch  at  the  far  end. 
As  soon  as  he  flics  away  the  palate  snaps  back  again,  and 
closes  the  entrance  once  more  till  another  bee  presents 
himself  on  the  threshold.  The  yellow-rattle  has  just  as 
complicated  an  arrangement  on  a  smaller  scale,  with  an 
arched  and  flattened  upper  lip,  flanked  by  two  purple- 
spotted  wings,  as  well  as  a  lobed  lower  lip,  deeply 
divided  into  three  distinct  segments.  The  flowers  are 
minutely  arranged  for  fertilization  by  bees  ;  and  the 
insect  is  obliged  to  thrust  his  proboscis  between  the 
closely  locked  and  hairy  stamens  in  order  to  get  at  the 
honey.  In  doing  so,  he  necessarily  shakes  out  the  pol- 
len, which  he  carries  away  with  him  on  his  head  to  the 
next  blossom. 

In  a  very  plastic  and  variable  family  such  as  this, 
the  general  plasticity  seems  to  affect  every  part  of  the 
plant.  While  the  flowers  still  preserve  throughout  the 
same  fundamental  botanical  type,  they  vary  so  much 
from  kind  to  kind  in  all  conspicuous  outer  peculiarities 
that  a  casual  observer  would  probably  fail  to  see  any 
resemblance  at  all  between  them.  Even  this  little  minor 
group  of  half -parasitic  root-suckers  has  several  different 
shapes  of  flowers,  each  adapted  in  a  particular  fashion  of 
its  own  to  insect  fertilization.  Again,  their  coloring 
varies  widely.  If  you  take  a  very  simple  and  primitive 
group  like  the  buttercups,  you  will  find  dozens  of  species 
all  of  the  same  golden  yellow,  and  all  uniformly  colored 
in  every  part  of  the  flower.     But  if  you  take  a  family 


'  I  ! 


]  .  I 


1^ 


1 


i 


\i 


I 


I; 


98 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


like  these  snapdragons,  you  will  find  no  two  species 
colored  alike,  and  most  species  wonderfully  spotted 
and  dappled  with  mingling  yellow,  blue,  and  purple. 
Once  more,  the  leaves  vary  immensely  :  each  kind  hits 
out  a  separate  type  for  itself,  and  adapts  it  exactly  to 
the  soil  and  sunlight  of  its  particular  situation. 

With  such  universal  plasticity  of  constitution  as  this, 
it  is  easy  to  understand  how  the  parasitic  habit  could 
have  been  acquired  and  maintained.  The  little  eye- 
bright  which  grows  so  abundantly  on  roadside  commons 
is  still,  perhaps,  in  the  earliest  stage  of  the  practice.  Its 
flowers  are  most  like  the  blue  speedwells,  though  much 
streaked  with  red,  white,  and  purple  ;  and  its  roots  only 
suck  nutriment  slightly  from  the  thin  rootlets  of  the 
grasses  about  it.  It  does  far  less  harm  in  meadows  than 
yellow-rattle,  and  is  hardly  recognized  by  farmers  as  a 
distinct  enemy  at  all.  Next  to  it,  apparently,  come  the 
two  red-rattles — marshy  plants  with  much  more  special- 
ized flowers,  and  queer  fleshy  jagged  leaves  ;  they  also 
do  but  little  practical  damage,  because  they  frequent 
swamps,  and  fcdd  only  at  the  expense  of  the  rank  grass 
in  water-logged  patches  of  meadows.  Then  come  the 
still  more  parasitical  cow- wheats,  very  injurious  to  stand- 
ing corn,  but  happily  rare  in  Englanu  except  on  the 
south-east  coast.  In  Norfolk,  purple  cow- wheat  is  a 
regular  pest,  one  of  the  worst  possible  cornfield  weeds, 
and  very  difficult  to  eradicate,  since  it  sheds  its  seeds 
before  the  harvest  is  reaped.  This  plant  shows  in  an 
incipient  form  the  common  tendency  of  advanced 
parasites  to  lose  the  greenness  of  their  leaves ;  and 
when  once  a  weed  has  finally  reached  that  depth  of 
degradation  it  must  feed  forever  in  future  upon  the 
juices  of  its  host,  having  no  chlorophyl  of  its  own  with 
which  to  assimilate  starches  for  itself  from  the  air.     Last 


FOES  IN  THE  HAYFIELD. 


99 


of  all,  yello'^-rattlo  completes  the  list,  and  draws  more 
than  half  its  sustenance  from  the  throttled  grasses  on 
which  it  fastens.  In  time  such  plants  may  sink  to  the 
absolutely  leafless  condition  of  broomrape  or  toothwort. 
If  so,  however,  they  must  acquire  some  plan  for 
diffusing  their  seeds  more  widely  and  more  certainly,  so 
afi  to  fix  themselves  from  the  first  on  the  tissues  of  some 
other  weed.  At  present  the  seeds  of  rattle  are  large, 
flat,  and  winged  ;  and  when  ripe  they  clatter  about 
noisily  inside  the  swollen  calyx  and  pod,  till  a  high  wind 
blows  them  out  and  away.  Children  shake  the  pods  to 
make  them  rattle,  which  gives  the  weed  its  common 
English  name.  The  variability  that  has  made  the 
whole  family  what  it  is  may  still  be  marked  with  our 
own  eyes  ;  for  both  rattle  and  eyebright  have  so  many 
varieties  and  transitory  forms  that  they  have  been  split 
up  into  numberless  separate  races  by  botanists  with  an 
itch  for  seeing  their  own  names  as  authorities  at  the  end 
of  a  new  species.  When  there  is  much  variation  some 
forms  are  sure  to  possess  small  points  of  advantage  ; 
and  it  is  these  small  points  that  natural  selection  soon 
fixes  into  permanent  characteristics  of  new  i-aces. 


XVIII. 


HAYMAKING   BEGIN8. 


iili; 


The  early  season  has  told  upon  the  hay  more  than  upon 
any  other  crop  this  year,  perhaps  ;  and  the  thick  swathes 
are  already  lying  in  long  parallel  curves  upon  the  bulging 
side  of  Stonebarrow  Hill.  There  is  no  more  beautiful 
sight  among  all  the  beautiful  sights  of  the  country  than  to 
see  the  scythes  following  one  another  in  measured  rhythm 
along  a  convex  undulation  on  the  hill-side,  and  to  watch 
the  swathes  forming,  as  if  by  magic,  in  regular  ranks 
behind  each  mower  as  he  moves  quickly  and  skilfully 
across  the  transformed  field.  It  is  a  graceful  combina- 
tion of  natural  beauty  and  simple  human  art :  a  combina- 
tion in  which  each  rather  adds  to  than  diminishes  the 
effect  of  the  other.  Behind  the  mowers,  in  the  still  un- 
cut portion  of  the  meadow,  the  grasses  sway  and  bend 
before  the  wind  in  broken  curves — looking  almost  as 
though  the  whole  mass  were  moving  swiftly  like  a  river 
in  the  direction  of  the  breeze.  But  in  the  foreground, 
the  long  even  line  of  the  mown  edge  stands  up  sharply 
like  a  wall  with  human  regularity  ;  and  still  nearer,  the 
great  sweeping  rows  of  fresh  hay  lie  one  in  front  of  the 
other  with  human  consecutiveness.  In  the  level  field 
that  fills  up  the  alluvial  valley  below,  one  can  see  the 
same  thing  more  strikingly  displayed  ;  for  there  the 
crop  is  crimson  clover,  a  wide  expanse  of  such  color  as 
we  rarely  find  on  English  meadows  ;  and  it  has  been  cut 
into  squarely  for  fresh  fodder,  so  that  a  great  rectangular 
patch  of  green  runs  abruptly  into  the  serried  ranks  of 


HAYMAKING   BEGINS. 


101 


wind-swept  crimson  heads.  Add  the  mingled  scent  of 
the  new-mown  hay  and  the  still-flowering  clover,  and 
you  have  such  a  profusion  of  rustic  sense-pleasures  before 
you  as  satisfies  the  vacant  mind  with  that  monochronic 
hedonism  which,  in  spite  of  the  ethical  philosophers,  is, 
after  all,  one  of  the  purest  charais  in  our  little  human 
life. 

Hay,  say  the  dictionary-makers,  is  dry  grass  ;  and 
yet  it  is  curious,  when  you  come  to  look  into  it,  how 
small  a  portion  of  the  sum- total  the  grass  itself  really 
makes  up.  To  be  sure,  grasses  form  the  tallest  and 
most  conspicuous  part  of  the  herbage  :  their  tufted 
heads,  now  purpled  with  the  downy  bloom,  overtop  all 
the  shorter  ingredients,  and  so  of  course  strike  our  eyes 
most  forcibly  as  we  gaze  across  the  swaying  and  surg- 
ing mass.  But  in  truth  they  are  only  that  element  in 
the  meadow  which  has  been  forced  upward  by  tlu;  (torn- 
petition  of  the  other  kinds  ;  they  have  tfill  thin  iifyiades 
adapted  to  the  circumstances;  and  they  ir  net  get  their 
spikes  of  blossom  well  above  the  interfering  thin^'K  at 
their  base,  because  they  are  wind-fertilized,  so  that  tliuy 
want  abundant  free  space  for  the  puilou  to  be  wafted 
from  head  to  head.  If  you  look  losely  into  our  LnjgMB^a 
greensward  anywhere,  you  will  see  that  all  the  grafjees 
put  together  hardly  make  up  one  half  of  its  component 
elements. 

See  here  in  the  pasture,  a  large  part  consists  of 
buttercup  stems,  uncropped  by  the  cows  ;  of  plantains, 
with  their  ribbed  leaves  almost  rivalling  the  blades  of 
tlie  grasses  ;  and  of  little  spreading  daisies,  with  their 
close  rosetr  >  of  foliage  pressed  hard  and  tight  against 
the  laked  ground,  ^o  as  to  prevent  the  struggling 
young  seedlii  ^  of  tJio  grass  from  pushing  their  way 
between  the  overlapping  tufts.     It  is  just  the  same  in 


103 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


the  meadow  :  there,  in  between  the  haulms  of  grass,  you 
get  a  thick  and  matted  undergrowth  of  Dutch  clover, 
yellow  medick,  and  rusty-red  sorrel,  besides  all  the  taller 
meadow  flowers — such  as  buttercups,  corn  poppies,  and 
ox-eye  daisies.  These  last  make  up  a  large  and  curious 
group,  the  true  weeds  of  cultivation.  They  are  as 
purely  of  human  origin  in  most  cases  as  wheat  or  barley  : 
they  have  assumed  their  existing  shapes  under  the  in- 
fluence of  man's  handicraft.  And  yet  they  differ  in  one 
important  particular — that  they  are  dependent  upon  him 
involuntarily  instead  of  voluntarily  :  they  are  results  of 
his  weakness,  not  of  his  strength. 

Take  first  these  two  wild  y^jllow  weeds  by  the  hedge- 
row as  examples  of  what  man's  definite  and  intentional 
selection  has  done.  A  casual  observer  would  hardly 
know  them  from  charlock  ;  for  they  have  much  the  same 
golden  flowers,  and  grow  in  much  the  same  straggling 
weedy  way  ;  but  their  leaves  have  no  stalks,  and  even 
in  the  rougher  of  the  two  they  are  far  from  being  so 
prickly  to  handle.  This  one  with  the  bluish  tinge  upon 
its  foliage — a  Greek  would  have  called  it  glaucous — ^is 
wild  cabbage ;  and  from  just  such  a  tall,  stringy  weed 
as  that,  all  stalk  and  no  heart,  constant  human  selec- 
tion has  developed  not  only  all  the  garden  cabbages,  red 
or  white,  but  hoc  genus  omne — cauliflowers,  broccolis, 
kales,  Brussels  sprouts,  and  fifty  other  varieties  as  well. 
Over-feed  and  over-breed  the  leaves,  and  you  get  at  last 
a  cabbage  ;  over-nourish  the  flower-buds,  and  you  get 
at  last  a  cauliflower.  Again,  this  other  scrubby  plant, 
with  tails  to  its  leaves  clasping  the  stem,  is  the  origin  of 
all  our  turnip  kinds.  In  itself,  it  differs  almost  inappre- 
ciably from  the  ancestor  of  the  cabbages  ;  but  its  tap- 
root is  just  a  trifle  fuller  and  rounder  ;  and  hence,  when 
primitive  man  first  pulled  it  up,  he  did  not  eat  its 


HAYMAKING   BEGINS. 


103 


prickly  leaves,  but  boiled  its  round  underground  knob 
instead.  So,  too,  when  he  began  to  cultivate  the  two 
weeds  in  his  little  garden  patch,  be  selected  his  cabbages 
for  their  hearts  and  his  turnips  for  their  roots.  But  so 
plastic  are  all  these  forms,  that  while  later  man  has  made 
the  wild  root  turn  into  a  cultivated  turnip  for  himself 
and  his  sheep,  he  has  made  it  turn  equally  at  will  into  a 
swede  for  his  cattle,  and  he  has  developed  it  into  a  rape- 
seed  for  the  manufacture  of  his  colza  oil.  Let  any  one 
of  these  artificial  varieties  alone  on  its  own  resources, 
and  after  a  few  generations  it  will  revert  to  the  original 
wild  cabbage  or  wild  turnip,  as  the  case  may  be.  But  if 
we  found  the  different  cultivated  plants  all  g] -owing  in  a 
wild  state  we  should  say  not  only  that  they  wore  good 
species,  but  also  that  they  were  much  better  species  than 
the  wild  cabbage  or  the  wild  turnip  from  which  they 
sprang.  The  cultivated  varieties  differ  more  among 
themselves  than  their  wild  originals  differ  from  one 
another. 

Kow,  unconsciously  and  involuntarily,  man  has  simi- 
larly altered  many  wild  plants  which  grow,  or  once 
grew,  upon  his  cultivated  plains.  By  tilling  almost  all 
the  alluvial  lowlands  and  prairie  stretches  of  Europe  and 
Asia,  and  still  later  of  America,  he  has  produced  such  a 
series  of  changes  in  the  native  plants  that  many  of  them 
have  become  at  last  pure  weeds  of  cultivation.  There 
are  some,  like  pimpernel  and  shepherd's-purse,  that  we 
only  know  in  this  form  ;  they  grow  always  on  culti- 
vated ground  or  waste  patches,  and  their  truly  wild 
types  are  now  utterly  extinct  and  irrecoverable.  None 
are  more  peculiar  in  this  respect  than  the  weeds  that 
frequent  cornfields  and  meadows  ;  and  perhaps  their 
most  marked  peculiarity  is  their  exact  synchronism  with 
the  grass  or  the  wheat  among  which  they  grow.     All  of 


I! 


•«! 


lil 


'I    >L- 


I 


! 


ki} 


I 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 

them  spring  up  together,  flower  together,  and  ripen  their 
seeds  together.  They  are  cut  down  with  the  crops ; 
seeds  are  sown  with  the  crops ;  and  they  are 
carried  to  all  parts  of  the  world  with  the  seed-corn  and 
the  grasses.  At  first  sight  people  are  inclined  to  say 
that  this  is  pushing  a  true  principle  too  far  :  cultivation, 
they  think,  has  existed  on  the  earth  for  so  short  a  period 
that  natural  selection  has  not  yet  had  time  to  act  upon  its 
concomitant  weeds.  They  might  almost  as  well  object 
to  an  account  of  a  shipwreck  in  which  only  the  best 
swimmers  escaped,  on  the  ground  that  in  those  few 
minutes  natural  selection  would  not  have  time  to  single 
out  the  bravest  muscles  and  the  strongest  thews.  There 
are  circumstances  in  which  the  selection  is  absolute  and 
instantaneous — as,  for  example,  in  prairie-fires  or  sub- 
merged islands.  The  annual  cutting  of  the  com  and  the 
grasses  acts  almost  as  absolutely  and  effectively.  From 
year  to  year,  at  a  relatively  fixed  date,  every  plant  in 
vast  tracts  of  cultivated  country  is  cut  down  and  carried 
away  from  the  fields.  Most  of  these  plants  are  peculiar 
to  the  tilth  of  the  lowlands  ;  they  are  different  in  type 
both  from  the  woodland  flowers  and  from  the  hedgerow 
weeds.  Hence  their  only  chance  of  survival  is  by  ex- 
actly adapting  their  own  habits  to  those  of  the  food- 
plants  among  which  they  dwell. 

In  the  beginning,  no  doubt,  they  varied  greatly  in 
their  periods  of  development ;  some  were  earlier  and 
some  later.  But  every  weed  which  ripened  its  seeds  too 
late  would  naturally  be  cut  down  green,  so  as  to  perish 
utterly  ;  while  every  weed  which  ripened  them  too  early 
would  stand  a  fair  chance  of  having  them  buried  beneath 
a  whole  sod's  thickness  of  ploughed  land.  Thus  only 
those  which  happened  exactly  to  tally  in  time  with  the 
com  or  the  grasses  would  succeed  on  an  average  in  keep- 


HAYMAKING  BEGINS. 


105 


ing  their  position  ;  bo  that  at  last  the  fanner  often  posi- 
tively sows  corn-cockles  and  thistles  broadcast  with  the 
grain  that  he  scatters  on  his  fields.  They  go  with  the 
seeds  to  America  and  Australia,  and  they  live  down  the 
native  plants  in  New  Zealand  or  the  Cape  Colony. 
What  we  see  in  this  illustrative  example  of  their  seeding 
is  equally  true  in  all  their  other  peculiarities.  They 
have  been  compelled  to  adapt  themselves  to  the  new 
conditions  by  such  a  stringent  selection  as  seldom  or 
never  occurs  in  natural  circiunstances.  Prairie-fires  or 
inundations  take  place  once  in  an  age,  on  a  single  spot 
at  least  ;  but  the  animal  ploughing  of  the  fields  does 
almost  as  much  every  year  as  these  catastrophes  can 
accomplish  in  a  whole  century.  Indeed,  no  form  of 
selection  is  really  so  severe  as  that  thus  unconsciously 
exercised  by  man.  And  when  we  remember  that  he 
has  tilled  and  reaped  cereal  grains  ever  since  the  days 
when  he  ground  his  flint  hatchets  beneath  the  primeval 
beech-forests  of  prehistoric  Europe,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  appropriate  interloping  plants  should  have  had  time 
to  develop  themselves  in  his  cultivated  patches.  How- 
ever small  those  patches  were,  they  must  from  the 
beginning  have  possessed  their  own  peculiar  types  of 
weeds. 


XIX. 

THE   MOLE    AT   HOME. 

Hebe  in  the  barton  of  Colway  Farm  I  have  just  come 
across  the  farmer's  museum  —  a  barn-door  with  dead 
weasels  nailed  against  it  for  a  warning  to  evil-doers  ; 
which  museum  also  contains  the  warped  skins  of  no 
fewer  than  eleven  indigenous  British  mammals,  including 
bats,  shrews,  water-rats,  moles,  and  harvest-mice.  As  I 
stand  by  the  barn-door  examining  the  dried  and  withered 
skins  at  leisure,  young  Tom  Wootton  comes  up  with  a 
basket  of  something  or  other  on  his  arm.  *'  What  'ast 
got  there,  Tom  ?"  I  ask  him,  in  our  native  West  Saxon 
tongue  ;  and  Tom,  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  face  at  the 
question,  answers,  **  Wunts,  zur,  wunts  to  hang  up  along- 
zide  o' they  others.''  Perhaps  it  may  be  necessary  to 
inform  the  untutored  dwellers  in  cities  that  wunt  or  wont 
is  the  good  old  English  name  of  those  underground 
animals  which  wo  nowadays  chiefly  know  as  moles. 
Tom  is  wunt-catcher  by  apjjuintment  to  the  farm,  and 
he  has  just  made  a  capture  of  half  a  dozen  from  the 
troublesome  runs  in  the  Home  Fields.  I  take  one  of 
the  poor  things  out  cautiously  by  its  short  stumpy  tail, 
and  examine  it  all  round  with  a  critical  eye. 

It  is  a  curious  creature,  to  be  sure,  this  mole,  and 
one  of  the  best  examples  of  the  kind  of  wild  animals 
that  still  manage  to  drag  out  a  miserable  existence  in 
English  meadows  or  pastures.  The  mole  is  in  structure 
an  insectivore,  one  of  that  great  central  mammalian 
order  which  best  keeps  up  for  us  to  the  present  day  the 


•^i* 


THE   MOLE  AT  HOME. 


107 


primitive  peculiarities  of  the  yrhole  class  of  mammals. 
They  have  all  small  brains,  and  very  little  developed 
limbs  or  organs.  They  are  the  least  specialized  of  all 
quadrupeds,  the  kinds  which  have  diverged  the  least 
from  the  first  ancestral  rough  sketch  of  the  mammalian 
type.  Compared  with  a  horse,  a  deer,  an  elephant,  or  a 
cat,  one  feels  at  once  that  moles,  hedgehogs,  and  shrews 
are  very  simple  and  undeveloped  forms.  Even  exter- 
nally they  have  not  the  formed  limbs  and  highly  modi- 
fied weapons  or  extremities  of  these  higher  animals  ;  in- 
stead of  a  solid  hoof  they  have  five  rude  simple  claws  ; 
instead  of  powerful  tearing  teeth  they  have  a  weak  and 
primitive  dentition  ;  while  of  course  they  have  no  such 
peculiar  appendages  as  horns,  antlers,  tusks,  a  trunk,  an 
opposable  thumb,  or  a  prehensile  tail. 

This  simplicity  and  central  character  in  their  outer 
shape  is  answered  by  an  equal  simplicity  in  anatomical 
characters.  They  are,  in  fact,  a  few  skulking  represen- 
tatives of  a  very  early  type,  which  do  not  come  into 
competition  with  the  higher  and  later  forms  because  of 
their  nocturnal  or  underground  habits,  and  so  survive 
comparatively  unchanged  ;  while  all  the  better  places  in 
the  hierarchy  of  nature  are  filled  by  more  advanced  and 
specially  adapted  creatures. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  you  look  closely  at  this  mole, 
you  will  see  that  while  in  general  type  it  has  varied  but 
little  from  the  primitive  mammalian  ancestor,  it  has  yet 
undergone  modification  in  many  small  points  of  some 
importance,  so  as  closely  to  adapt  it  to  its  existing  mode 
of  life.  The  insectivores,  qua  insectivore,  are  intensely 
primitive,  but  each  one  of  them,  qua  mole,  or  water- 
shrew,  or  hedgehog,  is  a  very  specialized  kind  of  insec- 
tivore indeed.  This  mole  here,  for  example,  has  a  pair 
of  naked^  flat,  and  powerful  f orepaws,  turned  curiously 


li. 


I 


'['■'. 


108 


COLIN  CLOUT'S  CALENDAR. 


outward,  for  shovelling  out  the  earth  from  his  tunnels  ; 
they  look  singularly  like  the  human  hand,  and  are  wholly 
different  from  the  webbed  fingers  of  the  oared  shrew,  or 
the  simple  flat  feet  of  the  hedgehog.     Ages  and  ages 
ago  the  ancestors  of  the  mole  took  to  burrowing  in  the 
ground  for  a  livelihood,  and  all  their  structure  has  long 
since  been  accommodated  by  use  and  wont  or  by  natural 
selection  to  their  peculiar  habits.     It  is  easy  enough  to 
see,  indeed,  how  a  burrowing  insectivore  might  readily 
acquire  the  special  mode  of  life  now  so  deeply  ingrained 
in  the  race  of  moles.     At  first,  no  doubt,  it  would  take 
to  digging  a  hole  in  the  earth  simply  for  protection,  like 
rabbits  and  mice  ;  but,  as  it  musi;  thus  necessarily  come 
across  the  long  tunnels  and  nests  of  Mr.  Darwin's  friends 
the  earthworms,  it  would  naturally  cat  these  congenial 
morsels  of  food,  which  a  herbivore  like  the  rabbit  could 
not  touch.     A  certain  number  of  such  original  undiffer- 
entiated ancestors  of  the  mole  would  be  sure  to  find  an 
easier  living  by  hunting  the  worms  underground  than  by 
looking  for  beetles  and  slugs  on  the  surface,  like  the 
hedgehogs,  especially  if  they  happened  to  be  of  a  pow- 
erful muscular  build.      The  habit    of   digging  rapidly 
through  the  ground  would  increase  their  strength  from 
generation  to  generation  ;  and  natural   selection  would 
co-operate  with  habit  by  weeding  out  all  those  individu- 
als whose  paws  or  shape  was  less  adapted  to  burrowing, 
and  preserving  those  which  best  fulfilled  the  new  condi- 
tions of  existonce.     The  strongest   prototypical  mole, 
with  the  biggest  shovel-shaped  forefeet,  and  the  sharpest 
snout  for  extracting  the  worm  from  his  circular  tunnel, 
would  obtain  the  greatest  quantity  of  food,  and  starve 
out  his  less  developed  competitors.     So  in  time  all  the 
existing  peculiarities  of  the  species  would  come  to  be 
evolved,  till  at  last  each  country  possessed  a  mole  exactly 


>«  ■« 


O^HE  MOLE  AT  HOME. 


109 


>  1^ 


adapted  to  its  own  special  varieties  of  soil  and  earth- 
worms. 

Our  own  English  raole  has  now  acquired  a  shape 
and  structure  admirably  fitted  to  his  station  in  life.  He 
has  immensely  powerful  muscles,  which  enable  him  to 
plough  through  the  soil  with  astonishing  rapidity,  as 
anybody  knows  who  has  once  seen  the  earth  heaving 
and  swelling  beneath  the  turf  where  he  is  at  work 
constructing  a  new  tunnel.  In  order  to  make  up  for 
this  immense  expenditure  of  energy,  he  requires  a  pro- 
portionately enormous  quantity  of  food  ;  his  appetite  is 
positively  ravenous,  and  he  starves  if  forced  to  fjist  for 
only  half  a  day,  except  during  his  brief  period  of  hiber- 
nation. As  a  rule,  he  works  for  three  hours  at  a  time, 
then  rests  three  hours,  then  works  again,  and  so  on 
perpetually.  His  fur  is  very  thick  and  close,  so  as  to 
prevent  dust  from  getting  at  the  skin  ;  and  it  is  ex- 
tremely soft,  so  as  not  to  rub  against  the  burrows  and 
cause  vibrations  in  the  earth,  which,  as  Mr.  Darwin  has 
shown,  frighten  away  the  timid  worms.  His  slender 
snout  both  forms  a  wedge  to  loosen  the  soil  and  enables 
him  the  better  to  pick  his  clinging  prey  from  its  narrow 
concreted  tunnel.  On  the  other  hand,  an  eye  is  almost 
useless  to  a  subterranean  creature,  and  co  it  has  become 
practically  all  but  obsolete,  being  quite  buried  beneath 
the  skin.  In  all  probability  it  is  only  sensitive  to  the 
presence  or  absence  of  light,  not  to  definite  forms  and 
colors.  Like  most  other  miners,  he  dearly  loves  a  fight, 
for  which  purpose  he  meets  his  rival  above-ground  by 
night,  and  does  battle  with  a  fierceness  and  pugnacity 
that  are  truly  astonishing. 

The  mole  has  a  certain  number  of  regular  paths,  along 
which  he  makes  his  way  rapidly  and  noiselessly  through 
his  hunting-grounds,  catching  all  the  stray  worms  that 


:i.M. 


110 


COLIK  clout's  calendar. 


chance  to  "be  passing  on  the  way  ;  for,  after  a  Harrow  is 
once  made,  it  remains  open  all  that  season  as  a  sort  of 
permanent  pitfall,  intersecting  many  worm  -  tunnels. 
During  winter,  or  at  least  in  times  of  frost,  he  retires  to 
what  is  called  his  fortress,  containing  a  circular  nest, 
with  one  or  two  irregular  galleries  for  escape,  in  case  he 
is  attacked  by  man  or  carnivores.  The  very  symmetrical 
ground-plan  of  these  fortresses,  however,  which  has  been 
copied  over  and  over  again  in  popular  books  from  a 
sketch  by  an  imaginative  French  naturalist,  seems  to  me 
ridiculously  overdone  in  the  matter  of  systematic  com- 
pleteness. The  real  fortress  is  comparatively  a  very 
simple  matter — I  have  seen  Tom  open  dozens  of  them — 
and  has  only  a  few  quite  casual-looking  passages  instead 
of  the  complicated  circular  galleries  with  equidistant 
exits  and  five  internal  communications  shown  in  the 
well-known  picture.  While  the  frost  lasts  the  hungry 
animal  lies  coiled  up  dormant  in  this  hibernating  cham- 
ber ;  but  the  moment  a  thaw  sets  in,  and  the  worms  can 
get  about  once  more,  he  is  out  at  once,  and  you  can  track 
his  path  everywhere  through  the  meadows  by  his  numer- 
ous little  mounds  of  soft  fresh  mould.  As  an  enemy  of 
our  benefactor  the  earthworm  he  is  no  doubt  fair  sport 
for  man  ;  but  I  often  fancy  he  must  do  much  good  in 
his  way,  too,  by  loosening  the  soil  and  letting  it  crumble 
down  and  mellow  in  the  open  air. 


i     « 


XX. 


JULY    FLOWERS. 


See  here,  straggling  over  the  tall  weeds  on  the  bank, 
to  which  it  clings  by  its  twining  curled  tendrils,  I  have 
lighted  on  a  graceful  spr  ;y  of  the  true  vetch,  with  its 
pretty  purpliph  pea-flowers  and  its  long,  shiny,  grass- 
green  pods.  It  is  a  common  plant  enough,  this  southern 
vetch  ;  for  though  it  is  not  an  aboriginal  inhabitant  of 
Britain,  it  has  been  cultivated  for  fodder  so  long  in  our 
meadows  that  it  is  now  perfectly  acclimatized,  and 
spreads  readily  like  a  native  denizen  among  pastures  and 
waste  patches.  But  what  gives  it  a  special  interest  at  tlie 
present  moment  is  that  I  have  caught  it,  so  to  speak,  in 
the  very  act,  helping  to  verify  an  old  surmise  as  to  the 
true  purpose  of  these  little  black  spots  on  the  flaps  or 
wings  that  guard  each  separate  flower-stalk.  At  the 
point  where  the  blossoms  spring  from  the  stem  you  will 
notice  two  small  barbed  leaflets — stipules  we  call  them 
technically — each  with  a  round  dark  patch  in  its  hollow 
centre.  Now,  if  you  look  at  them  closely,  you  will  see 
that  the  dark  patches  are  moist  with  some  viscid  sub- 
stance ;  and  if  you  taste  it  you  will  find  that  it  is  nothing 
more  or  less  than  a  drop  of  pure  honey. 

On  this  particular  vetch- vine,  however,  each  of  these 
leafy  nectaries  is  now  being  eagerly  attacked  by  small 
black  ants,  who  are  greedily  sipping  up  the  honey  as  fast 
as  it  exudes.  There  cannot  be  much  doubt  that  that  is 
the  very  purpose  for  which  the  nectaries  are  put  there. 
Ants  are  known  to  be  terrible  honey  thieves  ;  and  they 


I  : 


rl  'J 


Jil 


112 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


are  perpetually  trying  to  get  at  the  store  of  sweets 
which  the  plant  has  laid  by  in  the  base  of  its  flower  to 
allure  the  fertilizing  bees.  But  any  flower  which  is  thus 
rifled  will  never  be  visited  or  impregnated  by  insect  visit- 
ors ;  and  so  those  plants  whose  structure  aids  them  by 
any  chance  trick  or  sport  in  bafliing  the  ants  will  be  the 
only  ones  that  can  set  their  seeds  and  become  the  parents 
of  future  generations.  Hence,  almost  all  honey-bearing 
flowers  have  inherited  some  peculiar  modiflcation  of 
structure  which  enables  them  to  set  at  defiance  all  such 
creeping  marauders.  Many  of  them  have  stalks  covered 
with  long  hairs — often  star-shaped  at  the  end  (as  one  can 
see  even  through  a  little  pocket  lens),  or  tipped  on  top 
with  small,  round,  sticky  glands.  Now,  there  is  nothing 
that  bothers  ants  so  much  as  hairs  :  they  seem  as  incapa- 
ble of  getting  through  them  as  a  cow  is  incapable  of 
getting  through  a  thickset  hedge.  Other  plants,  again, 
secrete  a  gummy  exudation  on  the  stem,  in  which  the 
wretched  foragers  get  clogged  and  slowly  killed,  like 
flies  on  a  plate  of  treacle.  But  the  vetch  has  few  hairs 
and  no  sticky  glands,  so  it  tries  to  bribe  the  ants  by 
throwing  them  a  sop  instead.  The  nectaries  on  the 
stipules  distract  them  from  the  flowers  ;  and  if  yon 
watch  you  will  see  that  the  ants  never  mount  the  slender 
flower-stalks  at  all,  but  go  straight  uy  the  main  stem 
from  one  such  extra-floral  honey-gland  to  another.  No 
doubt  they  never  discover  the  existence  of  the  real  flow- 
ers at  all.  Thus,  by  the  sacrifice  of  a  little  sugar  at  the 
base  of  each  flower-stalk,  the  vetch  secures  its  precious 
blossoms  from  robbery  and  consequent  barrenness. 
Curiously  enough,  there  are  two  nascent  varieties  of  this 
common  vetch,  not  yet  fully  differentiated  into  species 
— one  of  them  hairy  while  the  other  is  smooth  ;  and  in 
almost  every  case  the  hairiest  specimens,  being  already 


X 


JULY  FLOWERS. 


113 


sufficiently  protected  by  their  forest  of  tiny  bristles, 
secrete  little  or  no  honey.  Probably  they  arc  now  in 
course  of  acquiring  the  habit  of  doing  without  it. 

The  immense  variety  of  adaptation  to  external  circum- 
stances in  the  same  family,  indeed,  is  nowhere  irore  con- 
spicuously seen  than  in  our  English  peaflowers.  Funda- 
mentally, they  are  all  so  like  one  another  that  even  the 
most  unlearned  eye  at  once  admits  their  relationship  ; 
for  who  cannot  recognize  the  close  similarity  between 
peas  and  beans,  gorse  and  broom,  vetch  and  clover  ? 
Yet  almost  all  of  them,  while  retaining  at  bottom  the 
fundamental  ancestral  traits,  have  hit  out  the  most 
diverse  plans  for  accommodating  themselves  to  their 
own  particular  circumstances.  For  example,  there  are 
four  July  pea-blossoms  now  in  flower  which  have  four 
distinct  and  separate  types  or  methods  for  insuring  irsect 
fertilization.  In  this  bright  yellow  lotus,  that  covers  all 
the  bank  with  its  clustered  masses  of  gold,  the  pressure 
of  the  bee  pumps  out  the  pollen  through  a  small  aper- 
ture at  the  top  against  his  breast.  In  the  broom  and 
gorse,  his  weight  makes  the  whole  flower  burst  open 
elastically,  and  dusts  him  from  head  to  foot  with  the 
fertilizing  grains.  In  the  clovers,  the  stamens  are 
pushed  bodily  against  the  insect's  bosom  so  as  to  shed 
their  store  upon  his  legs.  Last  of  all,  in  the  peas  and 
vetches  the  pollen  is  swept  out  as  he  lights,  by  a  brush 
of  hail's  on  the  surface  of  the  pistil. 

Each  of  these  main  types  assumes  specialized  minor 
forms  in  the  various  genera  and  species,  according  as 
they  have  peculiarly  adapted  themselves  to  hive-bees  or 
humble-bees,  to  flies  or  to  beetles.  It  is  much  the  same 
with  their  fruits  or  pods.  This  vetch  here,  as  we  all 
know,  is  largely  grown  for  fodder,  because  of  its  rich 
pea-like  seeds,  weU  stored  with  starches  and  albumens 


114 


COLIN  CLOUT'S  CALENDAR. 


for  the  growth  of  the  young  plant.  Indeed,  the  pea  kind 
ranks  next  to  the  grasses  as  a  producer  of  human  food- 
stuffs— supplying  us  with  peas,  beans,  lentils,  and  many 
other  well-known  pulses.  But  these  rich  seeds  are 
always  much  sought  after  by  animals  as  food  ;  and  there- 
fore the  plants  have  been  driven  to  devise  the  most  cu- 
rious plans  for  thwarting  their  enemies  ;  or,  in  other 
words,  those  which  showed  any  tendency  in  the  direction 
of  producing  inedible  pods  have  thereby  gained  an  ad- 
vantage over  their  competitors  and  survived  accordingly. 
Here,  for  example,  is  a  sprig  of  yellow  nonsuch,  a  clover- 
like trailer  grown  in  the  meadows  as  an  "  artificial 
grass,"  because  of  its  rich  little  beans,  concealed  in  the 
small  black  kidney-shaped  pods  ;  this  is  a  relatively  ill- 
adapted  form,  largely  preserved  by  man's  providence. 
But  here  again  is  a  bit  of  the  truly  wild  medick,  a 
closely  allied  plant,  which  farmers  hate  ;  for  the  cattle 
will  scarcely  touch  it,  so  sternly  has  it  armed  itself 
against  their  dreaded  depredations.  In  leaf,  flower,  and 
general  appearance  the  two  are  typical  pea-plants,  differ- 
ing but  very  little  from  one  another.  But  in  their  fruit 
they  are  extremely  unlike.  The  medick  has  a  long 
curved  pod,  completely  twisted  round  and  curled  tightly 
up  into  a  close  spiral,  so  that  it  looks  more  like  a  little 
brown  ball  than  a  common  pea-pod.  All  round  the  edge 
i  iis  ball  is  thickly  defended  by  double  rows  of  stout 
hooked  prickles,  which  naturally  make  it  about  as  un- 
pleasant to  the  mouths  of  the  cattle  as  a  burr  or  a  thistle. 
The  subterranean  clover  is  another  pea-flower,  which 
solves  the  same  problem  in  a  different  way  by  burying 
its  own  seeds  beneath  the  sod.  And  this  wee  creeping 
bird's-foot,  which  like  many  of  its  small  congeners,  has 
to  fear  the  birds  more  than  the  sheep  or  cattle,  avoids 
opening  its  pod  to  shed  its  tiny  beans  by  making  it  solid 


JULY   FLOWKRS, 


116 


1!' 


all  round,  and  then  dropping  off,  as  it  ripens,  into  little 
articulated  piecos,  each  containing  a  single  seed.  The 
pod,  in  fact,  divides  at  the  joints  between  the  beans,  umd 
so  disappoints  the  birds,  who  always  wait  in  other  cases 
till  the  valves  burst  open.  Wild  radish,  or  **  jointed 
charlock"  as  the  fanners  call  it,  has  independently 
adopted  the  self -same  plan  in  the  widely  different  fam- 
ily of  the  cresses.  As  to  peculiarities  in  the  number 
and  shape  of  the  seeds  themselves,  the  hairiness  or 
smoothness  of  the  pods,  the  color  and  consistency  of 
their  coverings  and  so  forth — among  the  peaflowers  alone 
they  are  practically  innumerable  ;  and  each  has  its  own 
definite  purpose,  generally  discoverable  in  the  end  by  a 
little  careful  observation  and  minute  comparison. 

The  leaves,  again,  vary  immensely,  though  always 
strictly  by  derivation  from  a  single  ideal  or  ancestral 
type.  The  typical  leaf  of  the  pea-kind  has  a  central 
stalk,  with  little  leaflets  arranged  in  opposite  pairs  along 
its  course,  and  a  similar  terminal  leaflet  at  the  end.  This 
is  the  form  the  foliage  still  assumes  in  lady's-fingere, 
bird's-foot,  and  many  other  species.  But  in  the  clovers, 
and  similar  stunted  creeping  meadow  plants,  there  is  not 
much  material  to  spare  upon  the  leaves,  and  so  they  only 
develop  one  terminal  leaflet  with  a  single  pair  of  lateral 
ones  beneath  it :  in  other  words,  they  are  shortened  into 
trefoils.  The  complementary  leaflets  on  each  stalk 
remain  always  undeveloped.  In  these  vetches,  again, 
and  still  more  in  the  true  peas,  it  is  the  terminal  leaflets 
that  are  wanting  ;  and  in  their  place  the  end  of  the 
common  leaf -stalk  lengthens  out  into  twining  tendrils, 
which  help  the  branches  to  creep  over  other  plants,  so  as 
to  gain  a  decided  advantage  in  the  struggle  for  life  over 
the  little  procumbent  clovers. 

Sometimes  among   the  peas,  however,  circumstances 


116 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


:Jf:y 


i  ;i 


'  ■  i. 

5  if  f:'i 


call  for  a  different  modification  ;  and  then  we  get  all  sorts 
of  curious  distortions  or  abortions,  as  the  case  may  de- 
mand. Thus  the  beautiful  pink  grass  -  pea,  growing 
among  tall  blades  on  borders  or  fields,  requires  foliage 
like  the  grasses  themselves,  in  order  to  compete  with 
them  on  terms  of  equality  ;  and  it  has  achieved  its  end 
by  dwarfing  the  leaflets  till  they  have  disappeared  alto- 
gether, while  at  the  same  time  the  denuded  leaf -stalk  has 
flattened  out  into  a  broad  blade,  exactly  imitating  the 
grasses  among  which  it  lives.  In  its  close  relative  the 
yellow  vetchling  all  the  true  leaves  are  reduced  to  a  long 
tendril ;  but  to  make  up  for  them  the  barbed  stipules  or 
flaps,  normally  mere  tags  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch 
long,  have  grown  out  into  a  pair  of  expanded  and  heart- 
shaped  green  leaves.  Here  we  must  suppose  that  from 
generation  to  generation  the  original  leaflets  got  less  and 
less  work  to  do,  and  so  gradually  died  away  by  mere  dis- 
use ;  while  at  the  same  time  the  leaf -stalk  in  the  one  case 
and  the  stipules  in  the  other  grew  larger  and  larger  to 
perform  their  new  functions,  because  such  organs  were 
better  able  to  perform  them  under  those  peculiar  cor  di- 
tions  than  the  ancestral  leaflets,  derived  from  a  progeni- 
tor of  very  different  tastes  and  habits.  Strangest  of  all, 
in  gorse  the  leaves  assume  the  guise  of  stout  green 
thorns  ;  though  the  young  seedlings  have  first  trefoil 
foliage,  like  the  clovers,  and  only  gradually  produce  more 
and  more  lance-shaped  blades  as  they  reach  the  adult 
condition.  Here  protection  from  animals  is  obviously 
the  object  in  view.  Yet  so  rich  is  nature  that  all  these 
varieties  of  flowers,  fruits,  and  leaves  occur  within  the 
limits  of  a  single  family  ;  and  they  may  all  be  observed 
together  at  this  very  moment  in  the  July  meadows  or 
commons  of  southern  England. 


XXL 


CHERRIES    ARE    RIPE. 


The  big  whitehearts  on  the  first  tree  in  the  orchard 
are  just  beginning  to  blush  in  ruddy  streaks  on  the  sunny 
side,  and  the  wasps  are  already  finding  their  way  to  the 
softer  red  pulp  of  the  ripening  bigaroons  by  the  further 
hedgerow.  Altogether  the  little  mixed  cottage  orchard 
makes  up  a  very  pretty  picture  at  tl  e  present  moment. 
The  gnarled  old  apple-trees,  their  limbs  thickly  covered 
with  dry  gray  lichen,  are  now  in  full  summer  foliage  ; 
and  the  green  and  gray,  seen  from  a  little  distance,  melt 
together  into  a  beautiful  mass  of  soft  subdued  color. 
The  late  pink  hawthorn  is  still  in  half -faded  blossom  ; 
the  elder  is  one  sheet  of  white  bloom  ;  while  the  cherries 
are  rapidly  mellowing  into  pink  and  crimson.  No  fruit, 
indeed,  except  perhaps  the  orange,  is  prettier  or  more 
tempting  as  it  hangs  on  the  tree  than  our  English  cherry. 
Besides,  it  is  a  son  of  the  soil,  a  native  bom  ;  and,  in 
spite  of  all  that  gardeners  can  do,  our  real  indigenous 
fruits  thrive  better  to  the  last  in  English  mould  than 
any  imported  aliens.  The  cherry-trees  of  our  orchards 
spring,  in  fact,  from  two  separate  wild  British  stocks. 
The  common  dwarf  cherry,  whose  large  white  blossoms 
often  hang  out  of  thickets  and  copses  in  early  spring,  is 
the  ancestor  of  morellos,  du"':es,  and  the  Kentish  kind  ; 
the  taller  gean,  found  wild  only  in  the  southern  counties, 
is  the  strain  from  which  we  get  our  bigaroons  and  other 
sweet  table-fruit.  Selection  can  do  wonderful  things  ; 
but  it  absolutely  requires  the  positive  basis  of  natural 


■t  ■■  '.■ 


118 


coLiiT  clout's  calendab. 


il  • 


?fi  :•: 


variation  to  work  upon.  Though  it  would  be  quite  pos- 
sible to  make  a  serviceable  fruit  out  of  a  haw  or  a  dog- 
rose,  we  may  wall  doubt  whether  in  untold  ages  man 
could  ever  make  a  serviceable  finiit  out  of  a  heath  or  a 
thistle.  So  far  as  we  can  judge,  the  natural  variations 
which  tend  toward  succulence  and  pulpiness  never  seem 
to  manifest  themselves  at  all  in  the  group  of  plants  to 
which  the  heaths  and  the  thistles  belong. 

It  is  quite  otherwise  with  the  tribe  of  roses  :  including 
not  only  the  peach,  the  nectarine,  the  plum,  and  the 
cherry  ;  but  also  the  strawberry,  the  blackberry,  the 
raspberry,  the  cloudberry,  the  apple,  the  pear,  and  the 
mountain-ash  as  well.  Throughout  all  this  family  a  strong 
native  tendency  exists  toward  the  spontaneous  produc- 
tion of  juicy  fruits.  The  roses,  in  fact,  are  the  great 
fruit-bearers  of  the  world  ;  just  as  the  grasses  are  its 
grain-producers,  and  the  catkin  tribe  its  manufacturers 
of  solid  timber.  It  is  interesting  to  decipher  anew  the 
steps  by  which  the  chief  groups  of  plants  and  animals, 
afterward  turned  to  account  by  man  for  his  own  pur- 
poses, were  originally  developed,  quite  apart  from  his 
future  needs,  by  the  interaction  of  an  environment  in 
which  as  yet  he  bore  no  share.  Just  as  at  the  present 
day,  when  he  settles  in  a  new  region  teeming  with  un- 
tried natural  productions,  he  exploits  them  all  for  his 
own  service  ;  draining  gutta-percha  here,  extracting  dye- 
stuffs  there,  and  discovering  new  starches  in  yam  or 
sago-palm,  potato  or  cassava  yonder — so  at  his  first  ap- 
pearance upon  earth  he  took  in  hand  the  various  things 
already  evolved  in  it  by  pre-existing  agencies,  and 
moulded  their  properties  as  best  he  might  to  his  personal 
uses.  Each  of  them  had  a  function  of  its  own  in  refer- 
ence to  the  needs  of  the  organism  to  which  it  belonged  : 
man  adapted  them  to  his  special  human  wants. 


CHERRIES   ARE   RIPE. 


119 


But  the  ultimate  origin  of  the  pulpiness  in  plums  and 
cherries  wan  quite  antecedent  to  any  particular  adoption 
of  their  stocks  in  the  primitive  orchards  of  early  man. 
So  far  as  we  can  now  tell,  the  roses  do  not  date  back  in 
time  beyond  the  tertiary  period  of  geology.  The  very 
earliest  members  of  the  family  still  extant  are  little 
creeping  herbs,  like  cinquefoil  and  silver-weed,  with  yel- 
low blossoms  (all  primitive  blossoms,  indeed,  are  yellow) 
and  small,  dry,  inedible  seeds.  The  strawberry  is  the 
lowest  type  of  rose  above  these  very  simple  forms.  It 
is  still  a  creeping  herb,  and  its  seeds  are  still  small,  dry, 
and  inedible  ;  but  they  are  imbedded  in  a  juicy  pulp 
which  entices  birds  to  swallow  them,  and  so  aid  in  dis- 
persing them  under  circumstances  peculiarly  favorable 
to  their  due  germination  and  growth.  Next  in  order 
after  this  earliest  rude  succulent  type  (nature's  first 
rough  sketch  of  a  fruit,  so  to  speak  ;  and  a  very  suc- 
cessful one  too,  from  the  human  point  of  view  at  least) 
come  the  blackberry  and  raspberry  ;  where  the  individ- 
ual fruitlets  grow  soft,  sweet,  and  pulpy,  instead  of  re- 
maining dry  as  in  the  strawberry.  And  this  change 
clearly  marks  a  step  in  advance  ;  so  that  blackberries 
and  raspberries  are  enabled  to  get  along  with  fewer 
seeds,  and  yet  to  thrive  much  better  in  the  struggle  for 
life  too — seeing  that  they  have  developed  into  stout 
wood  trailers,  often  forming  considerable  thickets,  and 
killing  down  all  the  lesser  vegetation  beneath  and 
between  them.  Again,  the  dog-roses  show  still  higher 
development,  alike  in  their  erect  bushy  form,  in  their 
large  pink  flowers,  and  in  their  big  scarlet  hips — whicli 
are  uneatable  bj  us,  it  is  true,  but  are  great  favorites 
with  birds  in  severe  winters.  The  haws  of  the  white 
thorn  are  even  more  successful  in  attracting  the  robins 
and  other  non-migratory  allies  j  and  the  white  thorn  has 


ill 


II ' 


120 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


been  enabled,  accordingly,  to  reduce  its  seeds  to  one  or 
two,  each  inclosed  in  a  hard,  bony,  indigestible  nnt. 
Finally,  at  the  very  summit  of  the  genealogical  tree,  we 
get  the  plum  tribe,  highest  of  all  the  roses  ;  growing  into 
considerable  arborescent  forms  (though  in  this  respect  in- 
ferior to  pears  or  apples),  and  producing  large,  luscious, 
pulpy  fruits,  with  a  single  stony  seed,  admirably  adapted 
to  the  best  type  of  dispersion,  and  never  wasting  a  soli- 
tary germ  unnecessarily,  as  must  be  continually  the  case 
with  its  small  dry-seeded  congeners  the  silver- weeds  and 
cinquefoils.  Not,  of  course,  that  this  pedigree  must  be 
accepted  in  a  linear  sense  (indeed,  the  roses  early  in  their 
history  broke  up  into  at  least  three  distinct  lines,  which 
have  evolved  separately  on  their  own  account,  and  have 
culminated  respectively  in  the  plums,  the  true  roses, 
and  the  apples)  ;  but  it  illustrates  the  general  method  of 
their  development,  and  it  shows  the  strong  tendency 
which  they  all  alike  possess  toward  the  production  of 
sweet  pulpy  fruits  in  one  form  or  another. 

If  you  look  for  a  moment  at  a  ripe  cherry— by  prefer- 
ence a  red  one,  as  being  less  artificial  than  the  pale 
whitehearts — you  will  see  how  well  it  is  fitted  to  perform 
the  functions  for  which  the  tree  has  produced  it.  It  has 
a  bright  outer  coat,  to  attract  the  eyes  of  birds,  and 
especially  of  southern  birds  —  for  England  is  near  its 
northern  limit,  and  it  is  a  big  fruit  for  our  native  species 
to  eat ;  rowan-berries,  haws,  and  bird-cherries  are  rather 
their  special  food  in  our  northern  latitudes.  Then, 
again,  it  has  a  sweet  pulp  to  tempt  their  appetite  :  sweet- 
ness and  bright  color  in  plants  being  almost  always 
directly  traceable  to  animal  selection.  But  inside,  its  ac- 
tual seed  is  protected  by  a  stony  shell ;  while  its  kernel 
is  stored  with  rich  food-stuffs  for  the  young  seedling,  laid 
by  in  its  thick  seed  leaves,  which  form  the  two  lobes  of 


CIIEKRIES   AUE   KIPE. 


121 


the  almond-like  embryo.  The  flower,  it  is  true,  has  a 
pair  of  separate  ovules,  whicli  ought,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  to  develop  into  two  seeds  ;  but  as  the 
fruit  ripens  one  of  them  almost  always  atrophies.  Such 
diminution  in  the  number  of  seeds  invariably  accompa- 
nies every  advance  in  specialization,  or  every  fresh  for- 
ward step  in  apphances  for  more  certain  distribution. 
The  little  hard  nuts  on  the  outside  of  the  strawberry 
number  fifty  or  sixty  ;  the  nutlets  of  the  raspberry  num- 
ber only  some  twenty  or  tln'rty  ;  the  pips  of  the  apple, 
relatively  ill  protected  by  the  leathery  core,  range  from 
live  to  ten  ;  the  stones  of  the  haw,  with  their  bonier 
covering,  are  only  two  ;  but  in  the  plum  tribe,  with  their 
extreme  adaptation  to  animal  dispersion,  the  seeds  liavc 
reached  the  minimii'trh  irreducihile  of  one. 

It  is  tb^'s  highest  tribe  of  all,  accordingly,  that  supplies 
us  with  what  we  call  distinctively  our  stone-fruits.  The 
sloes  of  the  common  blackthorn  have  grown  under  culti- 
vation into  our  domestic  plums  ;  the  two  wild  cherries 
have  grown  into  our  morellos  and  bigaroons  ;  while  an 
Eastern  bush  has  been  gradually  developed  into  our 
more  delicate  apricots.  The  old-fashioned  botanists  have 
thrust  the  j)each  and  nectarine  into  a  separate  genus, 
because  of  their  wrinkled  stones  ;  but  common-sense 
will  show  any  one  that  it  would  be  much  easier  to  get  a 
peach  out  of  an  apricot  than  to  get  an  apricot  out  of  a 
plum  ;  and,  indeed,  these  artificial  scientific  distinctions 
are  fast  breaking  down  at  the  present  day,  as  we  learn 
more  and  more  about  the  infinite  plasticity  of  living 
forms  under  cultivation  or  altered  circumstances.  Even 
the  almond,  different  as  its  nut  appears  from  the  plum 
type  of  finiit,  is  really  a  plum  by  origin  ;  for  in  all  other 
particulars  of  flower,  leaf,  and  habit  it  closely  resembles 
the  nectarine,  from  which  it  has  diverged  only  in  the 


m 


COLIN   clout's  calendar. 


solitary  specialty  of  a  less  juicy  fruit.  We  know  how 
little  trouble  it  takes  to  turn  a  single  white  may-blossom 
into  the  double  pink  variety,  or  to  produce  our  distorted 
flowering  almonds  and  our  big  many-petalled  roses  from 
the  normal  form :  it  takes  very  little  more  trouble  for 
nature  to  turn  an  apricot  into  a  peach,  or  to  produce  a 
dry  shell-covered  almond  from  a  juicy  nectarine.  Only, 
since  nature  acts  more  slowlv,  and  since  her  conditions 
remain  approximately  the  same  throughout,  her  new 
species  do  not  tend  to  relapse  at  once  into  the  parent 
form,  as  our  artificial  varieties  mostly  do  the  moment 
we  relax  the  stringent  regimen  under  which  they  have 
been  produced. 


xxn. 


DOG-KOSE   AND   BKAMBLE8. 

It  .always  seems  as  though  summer  had  positively  come 
in  earnest  when  one  pulls  the  first  scented  dog-rose  of 
the  season  by  the  wayside.  And  here  at  last  on  the  foot- 
path through  the  Vicarage  grounds,  hedged  in  on  either 
hand  by  clambering  brambles  and  sweetbrier,  the  wild 
roses  of  every  sort  are  really  all  in  full  bloom  after  a  very 
summer-like  fashion.  It  is  a  quaint  and  prett}^  old  Eng- 
lish trick  of  language  that  assigns  the  less  useful  or  beau- 
tiful kinds  of  each  rudely  grouped  family  to  the  lower 
animals.  The  violets  without  a  perfume  are  dog-vio- 
lets ;  the  chestnut  that  we  cannot  eat  is  horse-chestnut ; 
the  common  parsnip  of  the  fields  is  cow-parsnip.  It  is 
the  same  with  cat-mint,  dog's-mercury,  horseradish, 
toad-flax,  and  swine's-cress  ;  while  buckwheat  and  buck- 
beans  point  back  to  an  older  state  of  things,  when 
deer  w^ere  far  more  familiar  beasts  than  now  in  English 
woodlands.  Fool's-parsley  puts  the  same  idea  in  a  more 
practical  and  literal  light.  But  who  can  first  have  called 
so  beautiful  a  flower  as  this  blushing  pink  blossom  1  am 
holding  in  my  hand  by  such  a  name  as  dog-rose  ?  Bogs, 
I  know  experimentally,  care  nothing  for  the  scent  of 
flowers  ;  and  the  dog-rose  is  the  sw^eetest  in  scent  of  all 
our  English  wild  roses.  Was  it  merely  by  way  of  dis- 
tinction from  the  garden  rose  that  it  got  its  name,  or  was 
it  to  mark  it  off  from  the  rarer  sweetbrier,  v^hose  leaves 
are  protectively  dotted  with  little  rusty-colored  glands, 
which  give  out  a  delicious  aromatic  perfume  when  rub 


■■  I 


lU 


COLIN   clout's   calendar. 


bed  betwoen  the  finj^jjere  ?  I  hardly  know  which  expla- 
nation is  the  more  likely  ;  for  the  common  double  rose 
of  our  gardens,  which  is  probably  a  distorted  variety  of 
the  French  wild  rose  from  the  Mediterranean  region, 
with  its  central  statnens  overfed  into  irregular  and  super- 
numerary petals,  has  certainly  been  grown  for  ornament 
since  a  very  early  period  in  English  flower-beds.  From 
that  South  European  stock  we  get  our  cabbage-rose  and 
our  moss-roses  ;  the  (^hina  roses  descend  from  an  Asiatic 
species  ;  while  the  dear  old-fashioned  Scotch  roses,  too 
often  turned  out  of  our  gardens  now  by  the  new-fangled 
oriental  varieties,  are  cultivated  forms  of  the  little  burnet 
rose,  that  grows  abundantly  in  sandy  districts  on  our  own 
western  seaboard.  All  of  them,  however,  will  produce 
hybrids  readily  with  one  another,  and  with  various  newer 
Asiatic  or  American  kinds  :  and  it  is  selected  varieties 
of  these  hybrids  that  make  up  the  mass  of  our  modern 
over-civilized  gaiden  strains. 

Indeed,  people  generally  have  very  little  idea  how 
many  distinct  species  of  plants  or  animals  exist  in  each 
great  group,  or  how  absolutely  they  all  merge  into  each 
other  for  the  most  part  by  insensible  gradations.  It  is 
the  inadequate  recognition  of  such  facts  that  makes  us 
less  able  to  realize  the  steps  by  which  species  change  from 
form  to  form  as  circumstances  demand  of  them.  Almost 
all  the  most  familiar  animals  happen  to  be  very  distinct 
from  one  another,  and  from  all  the  wild  animals  inhabit- 
ing Europe  ;  and  this  gives  us  a  false  idea  to  start  with 
of  the  stability  of  species.  There  is  no  danger  of  mis- 
taking a  horse  for  a  donkey,  or  a  sheep  for  a  cow.  But 
then  we  too  often  forget  that  these  animals  are  purposely 
bred  as  true  as  possible  to  an  tartificial  standard  ;  while 
all  intermediate  links  with  other  kinds  have  been  killed 
off  the  soil — in  civilized  countries  at  least — by  the  spread 


1  ij 


DOG-ROSE   AND   BRAMBLES. 


125 


of  tillage.  On  tho  other  hand,  v/hen,  as  in  the  case  of 
rabbits,  dogs,  and  pigeons,  we  have  produced  an  im- 
mense variety  of  artificial  forms,  they  are  generally  con- 
nected so  closely  with  one  another  by  recent  descent  that 
they  all  breed  easily  together ;  and  we  forget  their 
differences  as  lop-ears  or  blacks,  terriers  or  greyhounds, 
runts  or  pouters,  in  their  common  points  as  rabbits, 
dogs,  or  pigeons. 

It  is  not  so,  however,  in  the  wild  life  of  nature. 
There,  though  some  few  species  are  well  marked  by  the 
dying  out  of  intermediate  forms,  tl  e  difficulty  in  most 
cases  is  to  find  some  effective  token  which  will  constantly 
distinguish  one  kind  of  plant  or  animal  from  another. 
The  elephant,  it  is  tiae,  now  consists  only  of  two  ob- 
scurely marked  types,  Asiatic  and  African  ;  because  all 
the  others  of  his  race  have  died  off  long  since  ;  though 
he  was  once  connected  by  the  ancestors  of  the  mammoth 
and  the  mastodon  with  a  whole  line  of  earlier  creatures 
intermediate  between  tapirs,  pigs,  and  horses.  But  the 
cat  family  are  still  so  well  represented  in  our  midst  that 
you  can  find  somewhere  or  other  every  single  connecting 
link  between  our  own  tame  cats  and  the  tiger  or  the 
lion  ;  and  most  of  these  would  probably  prove  fertile 
witii  one  another,  at  least  along  the  doubtful  border- 
land. Those  who  watch  nature  closely  know  how  hard 
it  is  to  draw  an  effective  line  between  species  anywhere  ; 
and  most  observers  differ  among  themselves  as  to  the  ex- 
act spot  at  which,  if  anywhere,  it  can  best  be  drawn. 

Take,  for  example,  our  English  wild  roses  and  bram- 
bles here.  This  that  I  hold  in  my  hand  is  a  true  dog- 
rose,  with  a  scented  pinky  blossom,  and  with  few  or  no 
glands  upon  the  edges  of  its  leaflets.  It  is  the  common- 
est English  form  of  all ;  but  it  merges  so  indefinitely 
into  the  various  other  kinds  that  while  Mr.  Baljingtou 


\m 


roLIN   CLOLT's   ('ALKNI)All. 


and  Mr.  Borrcr  made  seventeen  distinct  species  alto- 
gether, Mr.  Bentliani  recognizes  only  five  ;  and  other 
authorities  distinguish  seven,  nine,  and  thirteen  respec- 
tively. Here  in  the  hedgerow  grows  a  second  sort,  the 
field-rose,  with  more  trailing  stems,  paler  white  flowers, 
and  more  globular  fruit — besides  the  purely  technical 
character  that  all  its  styles  are  united  together  into  a  tall 
projecting  colunm,  instead  of  issuing  separately  from  a 
little  vent  in  the  calyx.  Scentless,  the  books  usually 
call  it,  too,  though  to  me  it  has  a  distinct  and  pleasant 
perfume,  fainter  than  the  dog-rose's,  but  undeniably  real 
and  perceptible.  This  bush,  however,  merges  by  infini- 
tesimal gradations  into  the  true  dog-roee,  so  that  even 
experienced  botanists  of  the  old  dogmatic  type  cannot 
always  tell  you  to  which  of  the  two  species  they  would 
verbally  assign  a  particular  specimen.  Each  has  his  own 
nostrum — his  special  point  on  which  he  relies  in  diagno- 
sis ;  and  no  two  of  them  e  .er  agree  as  to  what  it  shall 
be,  nor  can  any  of  them  give  you  a  valid  reason  for  pre- 
ferring his  private  system  to  anybody  else's. 

Then,  again,  on  the  other  side,  the  dog-rose  merges 
equally  into  the  sweetbrier,  for  though  it  is  usually 
glandless,  it  has  often  a  few  small  glands  on  the  edge  of 
the  leaflets  to  guard  it  from  caterpillars  or  aphides  ;  and 
these  are  scattered  freely  on  the  under  side  and  the  leaf- 
stalks as  well  in  the  more  typical  sweetbriers.  Yet  the 
truest  sweetbrier  of  all  is  undoubtedly  an  artificial 
human  product,  made  by  selecting  the  best  or  most 
aromatic  natural  specimens  and  cultivating  or  breeding 
from  them  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances. 
Some  botanists  have  divided  even  this  into  two  species. 

In  a  third  direction,  the  dog-rose  varies  through  its 
hairier  varieties  toward  the  downy  rose,  with  a  prickly 
fruit  and  a  more  erect  bushy  stem. 


DOG-ROSK    \SU   URAMHhKS. 


1'41 


of 


its 

:iy 


Lastly,  tliG  two  or  three  fihorte'*  dwarf  forms,  witli 
numerous  straight  slender  prickles,  are  variously  lumpetl 
together  as  burnet  roses,  or  else  divided  into  two  or  more 
distinct  species,  according  to  the  taste  and  fancy  of  the 
observer.  The  names  wo  choose  to  give  them  and  the 
lines  wo  choose  to  draw  arc  mere  matters  of  human  con- 
venience in  nomenclature  :  the  one  patent  fact  which  all 
close  lookers  can  see  for  themselves  is  this — that  through- 
out the  whole  series  every  single  character  of  stem,  leaf, 
bud,  flower,  fruit,  or  seed  varies  indefinitely,  till  the  at- 
tempt really  to  discrimitiato  between  the  t}pes  becomes 
practically  impossible. 

It  is  much  the  same  w^itli  their  neighbors  the  brambles. 
Here,  ordinary  mortals  have  long  since  distinguished  two 
fairly  marked  types,  because  of  tlieir  different  berries  ; 
and  when  you  get  a  difference  in  the  berry  you  touch  the 
intelligence  of  mankind  at  once  in  one  of  its  tenderest 
and  deepest  susceptibilities.  So  these  two  species  have 
acquired  colloquial  names  as  blackberries  and  dewberries. 
But  in  between  them  an  indefinite  number  of  links  exist, 
which  can  no  more  be  separated  from  one  another  than 
humanity  could  be  sei:)arated  into  three  distinct  groups  of 
white-haired,  black -haired,  and  red-haired  people.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  so-called  blackberry  bushes  differ  so 
much  among  themselves  in  less  conspicuous  organs  that 
they  have  been  sometimes  divided  into  from  six  to  forty 
species,  and  sometimes  lumped  together  again  into  one. 

In  the  older  days  of  natural  science  our  Dryasdusts 
fouglit  fiercely  with  one  another  over  these  questions  of 
specific  identity  or  difference  :  nowadays,  we  am  all 
mostly  agreed  that  such  variations  nmst  naturally  occur, 
and  that  the  attempt  to  reduce  them  all  to  artificial  sym- 
metry is  as  impossible  as  it  is  futile.  In  some  cases 
species  are  well  marked  off  from  one  another,  because 


I 


128 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


natural  selection  has  fixed  steadily  npon  certain  very 
distinctive  or  highly  important  features,  and  has  exag- 
gerated those  to  an  extreme  degree  :  and  then  the  inter- 
mediate forms  soon  die  out,  because  crossing  becomes 
impracticable,  and  the  central  stock  has  ceased  to  exist. 
In  other  cases  Bpo<;ie«  merge  imperceptibly  into  one 
another  :  so  that  all  one  can  do  is  to  accept  certain  ap- 
proximate types  as  standards  of  reference,  and  consider 
the  intermediate  forms  as  neutral  specimens ;  because 
the  central  form  still  holds  its  own,  and  the  various 
lateral  types,  slightly  favored  by  natural  selection  in 
different  directions,  still  remain  capable  of  crossing  with 
one  another — at  least  on  their  respective  borders.  To 
this  latter  class  such  plants  as  the  roses  and  the  brambles 
belong — as,  indeed,  do  by  far  the  larger  number  of  our 
native  wild  flowers.  Indefinite  variability  and  indeter- 
minate boundaries  are  indeed  the  rule  ;  definiteness  and 
distinctness  of  limitation  are  but  rare  exceptions.  The 
primrose  fades  away  into  the  oxlip,  and  the  oxlip  into 
the  cowslip  :  till  at  last  even  the  bucolic  inquirer  is 
forced  to  take  refuge  in  the  fundamental  doctrine  of 
Hegelianism,  and  admit  that  after  all  in  nature  every  A 
is  also  a  not- A. 


XXIII. 


SUNDEW   AND   BLTfERWORT. 


Showery  August  weather,  with  gleams  of  sunshine 
interspersed,  is  just  what  the  little  hlue  hutterwort  hest 
loves  :  and  coming  out  into  the  patch  of  bog  above  the 
Home  Fields  to  look  for  it  this  morninff,  1  find  its 
strange  spurred  flowers  out  by  dozens,  among,the  mossy 
bits  where  the  undrained  pools  lie  thick  with  red  rusty 
sediment  between  the  tufted  grassy  islets,  and  the  peat 
yields  like  a  saturated  sponge  beneath  one's  hesitating 
feet.  Tliere  is  nothing  wilder  and  more  natural  left  in 
England  than  these  frequent  oases  of  marshy  ground, 
dotted  about  through  the  great  sheet  of  artificially 
drained  and  cultivated  farm-land  that  covers  the  plain  or 
the  hillside  ;  and  here  alone  one  might  compile  a  special 
calendar  from  spi-ing  to  autumn — a  chronicle  which 
should  note  from  day  to  day  the  budding  of  the  rushes 
and  the  sedges,  the  flowering  of  the  flags  and  feather- 
foils,  the  fruiting  of  bog-asphodels  and  great  osmunda 
ferns.  Everywhere  else,  save  on  a  few  lonely  moors  or 
heaths  and  barren  mountain-tops,  our  true  native  flora 
has  been  mostly  killed  off  before  the  spread  of  tillage  and 
the  steady  march  of  those  cultivated  weeds  which  came 
to  us  first  from  Western  Asia,  and  which  are  now  mak- 
ing the  tour  of  the  world  with  English  seed-wheat  and 
English  clover.  We  can  hardly  say,  indeed,  what  the 
real  English  flowers  of  the  plains  were  originally  like  ; 
for  some  of  them  must  now  be  quite  extinct,  and  others 
must  have  grown  weedier  and  coai-ser  to  suit  the  new 


-r" 


mi^»"i|l»TW  ■!  imt 


130 


■,,» 


COLIN   CLOUT  S   CALENDAR. 


circuiiistances  brought  about  hy  extended  cultivation. 
But  here  on  the  peaty  hillside  hollows,  and  in  the  unre- 
claimed bogs,  bits  of  which  may  be  found  almost  every- 
where, a  totally  different  type  of  vegetation  still  abun- 
dantly survives.  Reedy  tussocks  of  cotton-grass  and  bog- 
rush  rise  in  little  islands  from  the  level  turf  ;  and  in 
between  them  the  shallow  water  stagnates  and  reddens 
in  the  hollows  with  the  iron-mould  of  decaying  leaves 
and  skeleton  club-moss.  These  lower  bits,  beside  the 
trickling  rills  that  slowly  drain  off  the  overflow  from  the 
pools,  are  the  favorite  haunts  of  sundew  and  butterwort  ; 
and  what  gives  them  their  sj^ecial  interest  to  the  rural 
mind  is  this — that  here,  side  by  side  in  treacherous 
friendship,  grow  the  two  most  ruthless  and  marvellous 
among  our  English  insect-eating  plants. 

Sundew,  perhaps,  is  the  best  known  to  the  world  at 
large  of  the  two  uncanny  things,  by  name  at  any  rate  ;  if 
for  no  other  reason,  at  least  on  account  of  Mr. 
Swinburne's  exquisite  and  musical  lines  ;  the  only  entire 
poem,  1  fancy,  which  he  has  ever  devoted  to  any  single 
natural  object  ;  for,  in  sj)ite  of  his  vague  pantheistic 
nature-worship,  man,  not  nature,  is  the  real  centre  round 
which  the  eddy  of  his  thoughts  revolves.  Here  you 
have  an  entire  plant,  lifted,  root  and  all,  from  its  moist 
bed — as  curious  a  herb  to  look  at  as  any  in  the  world  ; 
and  indeed  it  iS  no  wonder  that  so  fantastic  a  creature 
should  ha  ^e  been  tiie  one  weed  to  attract  in  passing  our 
wierdest  poet's  special  attention.  The  leaves  are  round 
and  long-stalked,  pressed  flat  in  a  tuft  or  rosette  against 
the  ground,  and  rather  red  than  green  externally  even  at 
a  first  casual  glance.  But  when  you  look  closer,  you  see 
that  the  actual  blade  itself  is  more  or  less  faintly  green- 
ish, and  that  the  redness  of  its  surface  is  due  to  a  num- 
ber of  living  and  movable  viscid  hairs,  each  consisting 


SUNDEW   AND   BUTTERWORT. 


131 


of  a  long  neck,  capped  by  a  little  globular  crimson  gland 
as  big  as  a  pinhead.  Some  of  the  leaves  have  folded 
over  their  edges  or  rolled  in  upon  themselves  ;  and  if 
you  open  them  you  will  find  in  the  centre  two  or  three 
decaying  carcasses  of  flies.  Whenever  the  insect  lights 
upon  the  blade,  attracted  by  the  bright  red  glands  with 
their  honey-like  secretion,  he  gets  clogged  at  once  by  the 
sticky  hairs,  and  cannot  drag  himself  away  from  the  cor- 
±  jsive  acid  for  all  his  frantic  efforts.  For  my  own  part, 
I  cannot  watch  the  poor  creature  struggling  to  free  his 
legs  and  wings  from  this  horrible,  impassive,  blood-suck- 
ing plant  without  at  once  assisting  him  Out  oi  his 
trouble  ;  for  my  instincts  will  not  allow  me  to  appraise 
the  "  divine  dexterity"  of  nature  in  causing  destruction 
BO  highly  as  some  of  our  idealistic  humanitarians  have 
done  ;  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel  a  little  thrill  of  horror 
at  this  battle  between  the  sentient  and  the  insentient, 
where  the  insentient  always  wins — ^this  combination  of 
seeming  cunning  and  apparent  hunger  for  blood  on  the 
part  of  a  rooted,  inanimate  plant  against  a  breathing, 
flying,  conscious  insect.  But  with  a  little  bit  of  raw 
beef  one  can  see  the  whole  process  just  as  well,  and  far 
less  cruelly  ;  for  after  all,  man  shrinks  from  seeing  what 
unconscious  nature  does  not  shrink  from  designing  with 
minute  prevision  and  care.  As  soon  as  the  fragment  of 
meat  is  placed  upon  the  leaf,  the  clubbed  ends  of  the 
glandular  tentacles  hold  it  fast  by  their  sticky  secretion, 
and  the  other  tentacles  around  bend  over  to  enclose  it, 
exactly  as  the  arms  of  a  polyp  sweep  together  to  catch 
their  floating  prey.  If  you  put  a  dead  innutritions  ob- 
ject on  the  blade,  the  glands  bend  over  at  first,  but 
shortly  relax  again  ;  when  the  object  is  a  living  fly,  how- 
ever, they  clasp  it  tightly,  and  the  more  it  struggles  the 
more  it  excites  the  surrounding  tentacles  to  close  over  it 


i  ■  '■•■ 


i!M' 


132 


COLIN   CLOUT  S   CALENDAR. 


I  t 


and  hem  it  in  securely.  There  it  is  gradually  dissolved 
and  digested,  its  juices  going  to  supply  the  plant  with 
materials  for  the  production  of  its  flower  and  seed. 

The  butterwort  is  a  less  savagely  insectivorous  creature 
tlian  the  sundew  ;  yet  its  taste  for  fresh  meat  is  almost 
as  indubitable  as  that  of  its  cruel  red-leaved  neighbor. 
Its  foliage  is  pale  hoary  green,  covered  w4th  little  crys- 
talline-looking white  dots,  which  produce  an  abundant 
viscid  fluid,  easily  drawn  out  into  long  threads  by  the 
touch  of  a  linger.  When  an  insect  lights  upon  it,  his 
legs  are  clogged  by  the  fluid  ;  and  the  edge  of  the  leaf 
then  curls  slowly  inward,  so  as  to  push  him  into  the 
centre  of  the  blade,  where  the  digestive  power  seems  to 
be  sti'ongest.  But  what  is  most  interesting  of  all  about 
the  butterwort  is  the  fact  that  it  is  peculiarly  adapted  for 
attracting  insects  from  two  distinct  points  of  view — for 
food,  and  as  fertilizers.  While  it  lays  itself  out  to  catch 
and  eat  miscellaneous  small  flies  with  its  gummy  leaves, 
it  also  lays  itself  out  to  allure  bees  with  its  comparatively 
large  and  handsome  blue  mask-shaped  flowers.  It  has  a 
deep  spur  behind  each  blossom,  which  secretes  a  big 
drop  of  clear  honey  ;  while  its  irregular  shape  is  fitted 
neatly  to  the  bee's  body,  its  stamens  are  placed  in  the 
right  position  to  brush  against  his  back  as  he  enters  the 
tube,  and  its  lip  is  covered  with  long  club-shaped  hairs 
among  which  his  bristly  legs  can  get  a  firm  and  conven- 
ient foothold.  It  is  strange  thus  to  see  one  and  the  same, 
plant  bidding  for  the  attentions  of  one  insect  race  by 
lionest  allurements  of  honey  and  color,  while  at  the  same 
time  it  spreads  a  deadly  trap  for  a  second  race  with  sticky 
glands  and  dissolvent  acid  secretions. 

Why  should  these  two  totally  distinct  plants,  living 
together  in  precisely  similar  circumstances,  have  acquired 
this  curious  and  ucannny  liabit  of  catching  and  devouring 


SUXDEW   AND   I'.UTTEltWOUT. 


13^ 


live  flies  ?  Clearly,  there  must  be  some  good  reason  for 
the  i^ractice  :  the  more  so  as  all  other  insect- eating 
plants — Venus's  fly-traps,  side-saddle  flowers,  j)itcher- 
plants,  bladder  worts,  and  so  forth — are  invariably  deni- 
zens of  damp  watery  places,  rooting  as  a  rule  in  moist 
moss  or  decaying  loose  vegetation.  Now,  in  such  situa- 
tions it  is  difiicult  or  impossible  for  them  to  obtain  those 
materials  from  the  soil  which  are  usually  supplied  by 
constant  relays  of  animal  manure  ;  and  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, where  the  roots  have  no  access  to  decaying 
animal  matter,  those  plants  would  flourish  best  which 
most  utilized  every  scrap  of  such  matter  that  happened 
to  fall  upon  their  open  leaves.  At  flrst,  we  may  feel 
pretty  sure,  the  leaves  would  only  catch  dead  flies  which 
accidentally  dropped  upon  their  surface  ;  or  they  might 
begin  by  being  descended  from  slightly  viscid  ancestors, 
which  had  acquired  their  stickiness  to  prevent  ants  and 
other  intruders  from  climbing  up  the  stalk — an  explana- 
tion especially  probable  in  the  case  of  the  sundew,  seeing 
that  its  parent  form  was  almost  certainly  a  saxifrage  like 
tlie  common  little  London  pride  ;  and  these  saxifrages  are 
all  noticeable  for  their  very  sticky  glandular  stems  and 
dotted  leaves.  If  any  such  plant,  glowing  in  peaty 
spots,  occasionally  by  mere  accident  caught  flies,  which 
decayed  on  the  surface  of  its  leaves  and  so  supplied  it 
with  a  little  stock  of  manure,  it  would  bencflt  by  the 
habit  thus  initiated  ;  and  natural  selection  would  tend  to 
increase  and  specialize  that  habit  in  the  future.  So 
there  w^ould  slowly  be  evolved  the  long  glandular  tenta- 
cles, followed  by  the  actual  development  of  a  true  diges- 
tive absorbent  sj^stem,  and  at  last  of  something  closely 
resembling  a  set  of  nei ,  es,  to  enable  the  arms  to  close  in 
immediately  upon  tlie  struggling  prey. 

Butterwort,  on  the  other  hand,  began  by  being  a  sort 


'1  ! 


'!""*" 


H 


134 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


I 


.  •• 


lilli 


•  ;i 


■! 


1  !ll 


of  distant  cousin  to  the  primroses  ;  bnt  having  been  cast 
into  mucli  the  same  sort  of  situation  as  sundew,  it  has 
acquired  in  the  end  very  similar  habits  ;  while  at  the 
same  time  it  has  also  specialized  itself  in  another  direc- 
tion for  bee-fertilization,  till  its  irregular  blue  flowers 
now  show  hardly  any  trace  of  their  primrose  origin  save 
in  some  small  points  of  internal  structure,  noticeable  only 
to  an  anatomical  eye.  The  two  plants  strikingly  exhibit 
the  strange  results  natural  selection  will  often  produce 
where  very  exceptional  circumstances  make  the  neces- 
saries of  vegetable  life  much  more  difiicult  to  procure 
than  in  normal  cases.  Under  such  conditions,  plants 
frequently  acquire  tricks  of  structure  and  movement 
which  make  them  resemble  conscious  and  intelligent 
animate  creatures  to  an  almost  incredible  degree. 


XXIV. 


WHITE    KABBITS    ANJ)    WHITE    HARES. 

Walking  out  in  the  iindercliff  hy  Tom  Fowler's  cot- 
tage this  afternoon,  I  have  just  come  across  a  very  un- 
usual sight  for  an  English  warren.  A  snow^-white  wild 
rabbit  has  started  this  moment,  almost  from  under  my 
feet,  and  made  straight  for  his  burrow  on  the  neighbor- 
ing hillside.  What  is  stranger  still,  he  was  a  full-grown 
buck,  apparently  ;  and  this  is  peculiar,  because  a  rabbit 
of  such  a  conspicuous  color  is  almost  sure  to  get  picked 
off  early  in  his  life  by  prowding  owls  or  passing  badgers 
Indeed,  that  is  just  why  wild  rabbits  as  a  rule  possess 
their  well-known  grayish-brown  color.  Such  a  color 
harmonizes  well  with  the  dry  bracken  and  low  stubble 
among  wdiich  they  feed  ;  and  it  thus  renders  the  animals 
as  little  conspicuous  as  possible  to  their  numerous  ene- 
mies, especially  in  the  dusk  of  evening,  which  is  their 
proper  feeding  time.  Wild  rabbits  tend  to  vary  in  color 
a  little,  just  as  tame  ones  do,  though  to  a  less  degree  ; 
but  the  variations  are  dangerous  to  the  creatures,  because 
they  betray  them  more  readily  to  their  keen-eyed  foes. 
It  is  only  where  snow  abounds  that  white  rabbits  or 
wdiite  hares  are  likely  to  possess  any  advantage  ;  and 
under  such  circumstances  we  do  actually  find  a  white 
species  in  our  own  island. 

On  the  tops  of  the  higher  Scotch  hills,  in  fact,  there 
still  linger  on  among  the  colder  districts  a  few  isolated 
colonies  of  a  very  interesting  little  rodent,  known  by  a 
large  and  puzzling  array  of  aliases — as  the  white  hare. 


I    '■ 


EBta 


136 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


iii 


the  varying  hare,  the  Alpine  hare,  and  the  hhie  hare  of 
Scotland.  In  size  it  stands  about  midway  between  the 
common  hare  and  the  rabbit ;  but  it  differs  greatly  from 
both  in  color,  general  appearance,  and  instinctive  habits. 
Tliroughout  the  summer  months  the  blue  hare  is  clad  in 
a  suit  of  tawny  gray  fur,  with  a  slight  admixture  of  longer 
black  hairs  ;  and  as  it  runs,  the  shifting  lights  upon  its 
back  and  sides  produce  a  faintly  bluish  effect  to  the  eye, 
which  has  gained  for  it  perhaps  the  commonest  among 
its  numerous  popular  names.  In  winter,  however,  it 
changes  color,  like  the  ptarmigan  and  most  other  sub- 
arctic species — becoming  snow-white  all  over,  except  the 
very  tips  of  its  ears,  which  still  remain  a  lustrous  black. 
It  does  not  burrow  nor  make  a  form,  but  shelters  itself 
in  natural  crannies  of  the  rock  :  in  this  respect  agreeing 
rather  with  the  more  primitive  and  central  group  of 
rodents,  and  exhibiting  less  specialization  of  instinct  than 
either  the  common  hare  or  the  rabbit,  which  have  clearly 
acquired  more  developed  habits  in  accordance  with  their 
long  practice  of  dwelling  among  the  great  open  temper- 
ate plains  most  affected  by  man  and  by  the  hunting  car- 
nivores— dogs,  wolves,  ferrets,  stoats,  and  weasles. 

The  interest  attaching  to  the  blue  hare  is  somewhat 
akin  to  that  which  attaches  to  the  red  grouse,  as  involv- 
ing a  curious  problem  in  geographical  distribution.  But 
the  cases  may  be  regarded  as  to  some  extent  the  converse 
of  one  another  ;  for,  while  the  red  grouse  is  altogether 
peculiar  to  Britain,  the  blue  hare  is  found  in  scattered 
and  isolated  colonies  over  a  wide  extent  of  Europe  and 
Asia.  It  turns  up  again,  essentially  the  same,  in  the 
Swiss  Alps,  in  Scandinavia,  in  Russian  Lapland,  in 
Siberia,  and  in  Kamtchatka.  At  present  the  Alpine  and 
Scotch  colonies  at  least  are  separated  froni  the  central 
mainguard  of  the  species  in  the  sub-arctic  regions  by  wide 


!lil. 


WHITE    RAUBITS   AND    WHITP:   HARES. 


137 


intervening  seas  or  plains,  across  which  they  are  never 
reinforced  by  stray  fresh  arrivals  of  solitary  individuals. 
The  blue  hare  thus  exhibits  on  the  whole  the  perma- 
nence of  species  under  identical  conditions,  as  the  red 
grouse  and  the  willow  grouse  exhibit  the  tendency 
toward  variability  in  species  where  the  conditions  have 
become  more  or  less  dissimilar. 

We  now  know  pretty  accurately  how  these  little  isolat- 
ed colonies  got  stranded  so  far  apart  from  one  another 
on  the  tops  of  the  hillier  regions  or  in  the  colder  parts 
of  the  Eurasiatic  continent.  During  the  pleistocene 
period,  before  and  between  the  recurrent  glacial  epochs, 
the  ancestor  of  the  blue  hare  spread  over  the  whole 
central  plain  of  Europe,  which  was  then  cold  enough  to 
suit  their  peculiar  tastes  ;  and  their  bones,  essentially 
identical  with  thoso  of  the  existing  individuals,  are 
found  in  cave  deposits  of  pleistocene  date  as  far  south  as 
the  Swabian  grottos.  At  that  time  they  ranged  over 
the  chilly  lowlands  of  Belgium,  Germany,  and  the  North 
Sea,  in  company  with  the  reindeer,  the  arctic  fox,  the 
musk  sheep,  and  the  lemming,  which  have  now  been 
driven  back  again  to  the  snow-bound  regions  of  the 
north  ;  as  well  as  with  the  Alpine  marmot,  the  chamois, 
and  the  ibex,  which  at  present  inhabit  only  the  higher 
ranges  of  the  Alps,  the  Pyrenees,  the  Sierra  Nevada,  or 
the  Caucasus.  There  they  were  hunted  by  the  men  of 
the  earlier  stone  period,  who  used  only  weapons  of  chip- 
ped flint,  uflground  and  unpolished,  and  who  lived  for 
the  most  part  in  the  limestone  caverns  now  filled  in  by 
later  accumulations. 

As  the  climate  grew  warmer,  however,  after  the 
clearing  away  of  the  ice,  the  temperate  fauna  began  once 
more  to  replace  the  arctic  or  sub-arctic  kinds  in  Britain 
and  Germany.     The  cold  period  when    these  northern 


zz 

i, 

1; 
1) 

:'S' 


■ill 


^•:i 


138 


rOLIN   CLOUT'.S   CALENDAR. 


species  ranged  over  the  whole  central  belt  of  Europe 
corres2:)on(l8  roughly  with  the  age  of  the  palaeolithic 
cave-men  ;  with  the  post-glacial  neolithic  or  prehistoric 
age  we  find  a  gradual  and  continuous  retreat  northward 
of  the  animals  adapted  to  colder  habitats.  In  the  earlier 
neolithic  days  the  moose  and  the  reindeer  were  still 
found  as  far  south  as  Yorkshire  ;  by  the  dawn  of  the 
historical  period  they  were  extinct  in  England,  though 
the  Scandinavian  jarls  of  Orkney  still  hunted  reindeer 
among  the  straths  of  Caithness  as  late  as  the  middle  of 
the  twelfth  century.  During  the  first  period,  too,  both 
the  blue  hare  and  the  common  hare  ranged  together  over 
the  plains  of  England  ;  but  as  time  went  on  and  the 
climate  became  milder  the  northern  species  retreated  to 
the  Scotch  hills,  wdiero  it  found  a  more  congenial  atmos- 
phere, leaving  the  southern  plains  and  valleys  entirely  to 
the  occupation  of  its  ruddy  ally.  In  the  same  way  the 
blue  hares  of  Germany  also  became  extinct ;  and  so  the 
species  was  reduced  to  three  isolated  groups — one  in 
Scotland,  one  in  Switzerland,  and  one  large  connected 
body  in  northern  Europe  and  Siberia.  Here  for  the 
most  part  the  conditions  remained  so  similar  that  the 
various  animals  underwent  no  material  differentiation  : 
though  they  vary  slightly  from  place  to  place  in  the  de- 
gree to  which  they  retain  the  habit  of  turning  white  in 
winter. 

In  those  countries  w^here  the  snow  lies  long  on  the 
ground  they  keep  uj)  the  change  of  coat  as  a  protection 
against  their  enemies,  natural  selection  effectually  cutting 
off  any  specimen  which  varies  toward  brown  or  black  at 
that  season  ;  and  here  the  stoats  also  for  the  most  part 
assume  the  white  ermine  dress  in  winter,  so  as  to  come 
upon  them  imawares.  The  black  tips  to  the  ears  doubt- 
less serve  to  guide  the  leverets  in  following  their  dams 


WIIlTi;    HAHniTS    AND    WHITK    IIAIIKS. 


i;ji) 


across  the  snow,  witlioiit  being  so  conspiciions  as  to 
betray  the  animal  to  its  enemies  from  a  little  distance. 
On  the  other  hand,  in  northern  Siberia,  where  snow  lies 
almost  all  the  year  round,  the  blue  hare  lias  a  perma- 
nently white  coat  ;  but  in  southern  Russia  it  hardly 
alters  in  hue,  except  on  the  back  and  sides. 

The  Irish  hare  is  regarded  by  competent  authorities  as 
a  variety  of  the  blue  hare,  produced  under  the  excep- 
tionally favorable  circumstances  of  a  very  warm  insular 
habitat,  combined  with  freedom  from  competition.  In 
America  the  closely  similar  species — locally  culled  the 
rabbit — accommodates  itself  in  much  the  same  M'ay  to 
the  different  zones  of  climate — being  white  in  winter  in 
the  north,  and  yellowish-brown  all  the  year  round  jn  the 
middle  and  southern  States.  In  this  case  the  two  varie- 
ties mix  so  much  in  the  uninterrupted  land-surface 
between  the  Arctic  regions  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  that 
they  could  not  readily  grow  into  distinct  species.  But 
in  the  case  of  the  red  grouse  of  Britain  and  the  willow 
grouse  of  Scandinavia  such  a  change  has  been  facilitated 
by  absence  of  interbreeding  ;  and  in  the  case  of  the  Irish 
hare  we  get  a  similar  change,  now  actually  in  course  of 
operation.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  in  America  a 
glacial  species  has  spread  over  the  whole  country,  for 
even  the  southern  forms  undergo  a  slight  winter  change 
of  coat ;  whereas  in  Europe  the  return  of  an  exiled  tem- 
perate species  after  the  retreat  of  the  ice  has  driven  the 
glacial  kind  steadily  northward,  or  isolated  it  among  the 
colder  heights  of  Scotland  and  Switzerland.  It  is  worthy 
of  observation  that  where  the  hares  change  color  in 
winter  the  stoats  also  usually  assume  their  ermine  dress, 
but  w^here  the  hares  remain  of  one  hue  throughout  the 
year  the  stoats  for  the  most  part  follow  suit  under  the 
influence  of  identical  conditions. 


I 


XXV. 


THISTLEDOWN   BLOWS. 


In  spite  of  mucli  nnseasonable  rain,  the  corn  in  the 
Home  Close  still  looks  promising  enough  ;  and  if  we 
only  get  a  little  overdue  sunshine  for  the  ripening  of  the 
grain,  we  may  yet  save  a  decent  harvest  this  critical 
summer.  But  the  field  is  full  of  thistles,  as  it  always  is  ; 
and  nothing  one  can  do  seems  to  be  of  much  good  in 
eradicating  them.  The  down  continually  blows  over 
from  Shapwick  Grange,  the  next  farm,  as  it  is  now 
doing  indeed  at  tl.iis  very  moment ;  and  so  long  as  the 
Shapwick  people  go  on  neglecting  their  Further  Croft, 
there  is  no  chance  of  our  Home  Close  getting  really 
clear  of  the  troublesome  intruders. 

Nature,  indeed,  has  been  very  prodigal  to  thistles  ; 
she  has  given  them  every  advantage  and  no  enemies  on 
earth,  except  farmers  and  donkeys.  Just  look  at  such  a 
head  as  this  that  I  hsive  cut  off  clean  with  a  swish  of  my 
stick,  and  then  consider  what  fraction  of  a  chance  tlie 
wheat  or  the  wheat-gj'owers  have  got  against  it.  Each 
stalk  supports  some  dozen  heads  of  blossom  at  least ;  and 
each  head  contains  a  hundred  separate  flowers,  every  one 
of  them  destined  to  ])roduce  in  due  time  a  winged  and 
tufted  seed.  The  thistles  are  members  of  the  great  com- 
posite family,  like  the  daisies  and  the  dandelions  ;  and 
they  have  their  little  bells  clustered  together  after  the 
common  composite  fashion  into  close  and  compact  flower- 
heads.  If  you  cut  the  head  through  with  your  knife, 
longitudinally — ^it  is  difficult  fo  tear  it  open  because  of 


TIIISTLKIJOWN    UL0W8. 


141 


tlie  prickly  tips  to  the  bracts — you  will  see  that  it  is 
made  up  of  innumerable  distinct  purple  florets  :  each 
with  five  petals  united  'nto  a  long  deep  tube,  and  each 
with  a  little  seed-like  fruit  at  the  bottom,  crowned  by  a 
ring  of  hairs  (the  future  thistledown),  which  are  in  fact 
the  altered  and  modified  relics  of  the  original  calyx. 
Even  in  its  simplest  form,  the  composite  flower  bears 
marks  of  being  an  extremely  developed  floral  type  ;  and 
the  thistle,  though  relatively  simple,  is  very  far  from 
being  the  simplest  among  the  composite  plants.  A 
glance  at  the  past  history  of  the  race  will  show  why  it 
now  proves  so  persistent  and  noxious  an  enemy  to  us 
agriculturists.  It  is  one  of  the  most  highly  evolved  and 
successful  of  living  plants  ;  and  it  pits  itself  against  the 
relatively  simple  and  sickly  wheat — an  artificial  plant 
with  a  feeble  constitution,  which  we  ourselves  have  sed- 
ulously created  for  our  own  special  use.  The  natural 
consequence  is  that  if  we  did  not  give  every  advantage 
to  the  wheat  and  put  every  obstacle  we  can  in  the  way 
of  the  thistles,  they  would  live  it  down  in  a  single  de- 
cade ;  as  European  weeds  are  living  down  the  native 
weeds  of  New  Zealand,  or  as  English  vermin  are  living 
down  the  aboriginal  marsupials  of  isolated  Australia. 

The  primitive  ancestral  composite — to  go  no  further 
back  in  its  history  than  that — was  already  a  very  ad- 
vanced sort  of  plant,  with  a  number  of  little  tubular 
blossoms,  like  miniature  Canterbury  bells,  crowded 
together  compactly  into  a  clustered  many-flowered  head. 
Its  petals  were  probably  purple,  and  its  calyx  had  even 
then  assumed  the  form  of  long  floating  hairs  to  the  ripe 
seed.  But  at  an  early  stage  of  their  life  as  composites, 
the  group  broke  up  into  three  minor  tribes,  from  which 
are  severally  descended  the  daisies,  the  dandelions,  and 
the  thistles  ;  for  under  one  or  other  of  those  general 


»    I' 


f 


142 


COLIN   CLOUTS   CALKNDAU. 


'1 


iii 


heads  tlio  imiiiy  tliousand  known  species  may  be  rouglily 
classified.  The  daisy  tribe,  as  we  all  know,  took  to 
]>roducing  mostly  yellow  Hoicts,  with  white  or  pink 
outer  rays,  to  allure  their  special  insect  allies.  The  dan- 
delion tribe  turned  all  its  llorets  throughout  the  entire 
head  into  long  rays,  like  the  external  row  in  the  daisies, 
and  colored  them  uniforndy  yellow  throughout,  on 
behalf  of  the  little  yellow-loving  flies  by  whom  its  seeds 
are  usually  fertilized.  But  the  thistles,  the  central 
tribe  of  all,  retained  more  simply  the  original  habits  of  the 
race,  in  that  all  their  florets  are  still  tubular,  instead  of 
being  split  out  into  strap-shaped  rays  ;  while  the  vast 
majority  of  them  keep  as  yet  to  the  primitive  purple 
tinctures  of  their  race,  which  specially  endear  them  to 
the  higher  insects.  Bees  are  the  chief  fertilizers  of 
thistle-heads  ;  but  butterflies  also  frequently  pay  them  a 
visit  ;  and  in  the  Home  Close  at  the  present  moment 
they  are  being  attended  by  thousands  of  little  black  and 
red  burnet  moths,  which  prefer  the  long  bell-shajjed 
blossoms  even  to  that  favorite  flower  with  them,  the 
bird's-foot  trefoil.  Almost  every  head  in  the  fleld  is 
covered  by  half  a  dozen  moths  at  once,  all  drinking 
nectar  from  the  recesses  of  the  deep  long  tube,  and  all 
unconsciously  carrying  pollen  from  stem  to  stem  on  their 
nncoiled  proboscis. 

But  even  after  the  thistle  tribe  had  separated  from  its 
sister-composites  of  the  daisy  and  dandelion  groups,  it  was 
far  from  having  reached  the  fully  developed  thistly 
type.  The  lower  members  of  the  tribe  have  no  prickles, 
and  some  of  them  are  very  simple  unarmed  weeds  in- 
deed. The  common  sawwort,  which  abounds  in  copses 
and  hangers  in  the  south  of  England,  represents  the 
fii-st  rough  draft  of  a  thistle  in  this  nascent  condition. 
To  look  at,  it  is  very  thistle -like  indeed,  especially  in  its 


THISTLEDOWN   BLOWS. 


143 


purple  flower  heads,  closely  surrounded  by  a  set  of  tight 
but  not  prickly  bracts.  Livin^j,  as  it  does,  in  bushy 
places,  however,  where  cattle  seldom  penetrate,  it  lias 
not  felt  the  need  of  protective  defences  ;  and  so  it  has 
not  been  ousted  from  its  own  special  haunts  by  the  later 
and  more  highly  developed  true  thistles,  which  are  by 
origin  weeds  of  the  open  grass-clad  lowlands,  evolved 
under  stress  of  damage  from  herbivorous  .animals.  But 
where  cows  and  horses  abound,  or  still  earlier  where  deer 
and  antelopes  are  common,  the  defenceless  sawwort 
would  have  little  chance  ;  and  under  such  circumstances 
only  the  harder  and  stringier  plants,  or  those  which 
showed  some  tendency  to  produce  protective  spines  and 
bristles,  could  hope  for  success  in  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence. Thus  there  has  arisen  a  natural  tendency  in  the 
level  plains  to  favor  all  weeds  so  protected  ;  and  as  a 
matter  of  fact  the  vast  majority  of  open  lowland  weeds 
ac  the  present  day  do  actually  possess  some  protective 
device  of  stings,  harsh  hairs,  prickles,  or  spines,  or  else 
are  very  stringy  or  very  nauseous  to  the  taste.  Our  ob- 
ject as  cultivators  is  generally  to  keep  down  these 
natively  well-endowed  races,  in  favor  of  the  softer 
grasses  and  clovers,  which  we  are  obliged  artificially  to 
fence  in  and  protect  with  all  possible  precautions.  But 
even  so,  in  spite  of  all  our  endeavors  to  expel  nature 
with  our  civilized  pitchfork,  **  tamen  usque  recurrit." 

The  thistle  that  is  overruning  the  Home  Close  ranks, 
indeed,  among  the  best  adapted  and  most  successful  of 
its  kind  ;  which  is  only  the  converse  way  of  saying  that 
it  is  a  most  troublesome  and  ineradicable  weed.  Creep- 
ing-thistle, we  call  it,  from  its  peculiar  habits  ;  for,  be- 
sides its  open  mode  of  propagation  by  its  floating  seeds, 
it  has  a  sneaking  trick  of  spreading  underground  by  its 
buried  rootstock,  which  sends  up  fresh  stems  e\erj  year 


r 


xu 


COLIN   CLOUT  S   CALENDAR. 


I    •- 


I  ; 


'11: 


m  1 


■  '.  ■ 

li 

ii 
ii 


from  the  joints  or  nodes.  It  is  the  commonest  of  all  its 
race-  -not  in  England  only,  but  throughout  the  globe  ; 
for  its  winged  fruits  have  been  carried  to  every  quarter 
of  *he  world  with  seed-corn  and  clovers.  Cut  it  down, 
and  a  new  head  springs  from  below  the  wound  ;  hack  it 
close  to  the  ground,  and  the  rootstock  pushes  out  a  fresh 
young  shoot  from  an  unsuspected  corner  ;  harrow  it  up 
bodily,  and  the  seed  blows  over  at  harvest-time  from  all 
the  6U|^^nding  fields,  just  at  the  right  moment  for  the 
^.uturiih' ploughing. 

For  hardiness  of  constitution  it  has  no  equal  ;  and  this 
is  partly  due,  no  doubt,  to  the  fact  that  universal  cross- 
fertilization  has  become  absolutely  certain  by  the  separa- 
tion of  the  sexes  on  different  plants.  This  globular  head 
that  I  have  just  swished  off  has  none  but  stamen-bearing 
florets  ;  this  other  more  conical  cluster,  that  I  am  trying 
to  cut  with  the  aid  of  my  knife  and  handkerchief,  con- 
tains nothing,  on  the  contrary,  but  pistils  and  seeds. 
Such  careful  separation  of  the  two  elements  perfectly 
insures  a  good  cross  in  each  generation,  and  so  greatly 
improves  the  quality  of  the  strain.  Add  that  every  stem 
produces  some  thirty  or  forty  heads,  each  containing 
more  than  a  hundred  florets,  with  winged  seeds  that  fly 
about  everywhere,  and  can  you  wonder  that  thistles  are 
so  plentiful  ?  Even  the  less  developed  types,  like  the 
melancholy  thistle  of  the  Highlands — so  called  from  its 
gracefully  nodding  or  drooping  head — get  on  well  enough, 
though  that  particular  species  differs  from  all  others  in 
not  being  prickly,  and  depends  for  its  defence  entirely  on 
its  stringy  nature.  Centaury  and  corn -bluebottle,  too, 
are  others  of  the  same  tribe,  which  have  differentiated 
themselves  in  less  unpleasant  ways  than  the  true  thistles  ; 
while  tlie  common  burdock  has  turned  the  prickles  on 
its  head  into  small  clinging  hooks,  which  help  to  disiierse 


THISTLEDOWK  BLOWS. 


145 


the  seeds  in  a  somewhat  different  manner,  by  dinging 
to  the  legs  of  animaJs ;  and  it  is  a  significant  fact  that 
the  burdocks  are  most  essentially  wayside  weeds  of  Iho 
waste  places  in  cultivated  lands.  But  in  its  own  particu- 
lar group— that  is  to  say,  among  the  purple  central  com- 
posites—the creeping  thistle  in  the  Home  Close  is  cer- 
tainly the  highest  existing  product  of  vegetable  evolu- 
tion ;  and  that  is  what  makes  me  bestow  upon  it,  after 
all,  a  certain  extorted  meed  of  gnidging  admiration.  It 
lays  itself  out  to  be  troublesome,  and  it  succeeds  to  per- 
fection. 


mmm 


mm. 


mmm 


XXVL 


SCARLET  GERANIUMS. 

We  have  such  a  show  of  many-colored  pelargoniums 
in  our  little  cottage-garden  at  this  moment  as  would  put 
to  shame,  I  verily  believe,  any  modern  bedded-out  par- 
terre in  all  England.  For,  indeed,  1  will  frankly  con- 
fess to  an  old-fashioned  love  for  natural  old-fashioned 
flowers,  undistorted  by  the  florist's  art ;  instead  of  those 
stiff,  overgrown,  unsymmetrical  bosses  of  irregular  leaves 
which  nursery-gardeners  nowadays  display  with  so  much 
pride  to  admiring  connoisseurs  as  splendid  double  varie- 
ties. The  doubling  is,  of  course,  produced,  for  the  most 
part,  by  converting  the  central  stamens  into  shapeless 
petals,  and  so  destroying  the  native  symmetry  and  archi- 
tectural ground-plan  of  the  original  flower.  If  you  look 
into  a  real  natural  blossom,  you  see  in  it  always  a  definite 
and  beautiful  scheme,  which  centres  on  the  truly  essen- 
tial parts — ^the  stamens  and  pistils  ;  but  if  you  look  into 
a  double  rose,  or,  still  worse,  a  double  geranium,  you  see 
nothing  but  a  confused  mass  of  wrinkled  and  amorphous 
petals,  without  any  distinct  central  point  or  any  consis- 
tent harmony  of  plan.  It  may  be  true,  as  Polixenes  says 
to  Perdita,  that  though  "  this  is  an  art  which  does  mend 
nature,"  yet  *'  nature  is  made  better  by  no  mean,  but 
nature  makes  that  mean  ;"  still,  she  makes  it  merely,  as 
it  seems  to  me,  by  way  of  disease  or  disorganization  ; 
and  I  go  rather  with  Perdita  (as  Shakespeare  himself 
clearly  did)  in  declaring  "  I'll  not  put  the  dibble  in  the 
earth  to  set  one  slip  of  them.''    No  :  our  cottage-garden 


6CARLET  GERANIUMS. 


147 


does  well  enough  with  the  old  hardy  perennials  and 
annuals,  the  mints  and  marjoram,  the  daffodils  and  vio- 
lets, the  lilies  and  oxlips  of  our  English  poetry  ;  it  will 
not  away  with  your  modern  gloxinias  and  echeverias,  and 
heaven  only  knows  what  other  new-fangled  things,  called 
by  doubtfully  classical  names  unlovelier  than  themselves. 

Among  all  our  old-fashioned  garden  flowers,  not  one 
js  brighter  or  prettier  than  these  common  pelargoniums 
from  the  Cape  which  we  all  know  familiarly  as  scarlet 
geraniums.  They  are  not  exactly  of  the  genuine  botani- 
cal geranium  type,  it  is  true  ;  but  they  are  quite  near 
enough  to  it  for  even  unlearned  eyes  to  perceive  imme- 
diately the  close  relationship  between  them.  1  suppose 
everybody  knows  the  little  wild  herb-robert  of  our  Eng- 
lish roadsides — its  pretty  lace-like  foliage  turns  so  bright 
a  red  on  dry  walls  or  sandy  hedge-banks,  that  even  the 
most  casual  passerby  can  hardly  fail  to  have  learned 
its  name.  Herb-robert  is  the  true  geranium  ;  and  it  has 
many  familiar  allies  in  Britain  and  in  the  rest  of  Europe, 
including  that  large  and  brilliant  kind  the  blood  gera- 
nium which  stars  the  limestone  rocks  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean and  the  Atlantic  shores,  from  Sorrento  and  Cadiz 
to  our  own  Cornish,  Welsh,  and  Cumbrian  cliffs. 

The  ordinary  scarlet  garden  pelargonium  is  descended 
.  from  a  very  similar  type  ;  and  yet  though  it  is  so  com- 
mon and  so  well  known  a  plant,  it  has  some  strange 
peculiarities  of  structure  which  escape  the  notice  of 
ninety-nine  out  of  a  hundred  among  those  who  have  seen 
it  familiarly  in  their  gardens  or  their  vases  from  child- 
hood upward.  Pick  a  truss  of  the  bright  red  blossoms 
from  the  plant — we  have  no  despotic  gardener  here  to 
frown  at  us  for  meddling  with  our  own  belongings — and 
then  nip  off  a  single  flower  from  tho  head,  close  to  the 
point  where  the  clustered  bundle  joins  tha  main  stem. 


.    i 


1 

i    i 

t 

?        '. 

I 

' 

\i 

\    i 

', 

*  '       i 

,   5  ■ 

4          ! 

i 

<       : 

:l 


148 


couN  clout's  calendau. 


Perhaps  you  have  never  observed  before  that  the  single 
flower-stalks  are  each  sliglitly  humpbacked  :  there  is  a 
sort  of  knob  on  the  stalk  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch 
above  the  junction  with  the  stem  ;  and  from  that  knob 
upward  the  stalk  grows  twice  as  thick  as  below.  Again, 
look  at  the  flower  full  in  fix)nt,  and  you  will  observe, 
what  perhaps  has  hitherto  escaped  your  notice,  that  all 
five  petals  are  not  equal  and  similar,  but  that  the  blossom 
is  bilateral  instead  of  radially  symmetrical ;  it  has  two 
upper  petals  distinctly  different  in  shape  from  the  three 
lower  ones.  The  upper  pair  are  narrower,  and  stand  on 
rather  long  claws  ;  the  lower  trio  are  broader,  and  have 
no  claw.  Now,  pull  off  the  two  upper  petals,  and  you 
will  see  that  behind  them  there  lies  a  deep  pouch  or 
tube,  running  along  the  top  of  the  flower-stalk  as  far  as 
the  knob.  Cut  the  stalk  across,  and  you  will  find  it 
hollow  on  the  top  ;  cut  it  down  lengthwise,  and,  if  you 
follow  up  the  pouch  throughout  its  whole  length,  you 
will  learn  that  it  leads  at  last  to  a  drop  of  honey,  secreted 
in  the  furthest  recesses  of  the  knob.  To  put  it  shortly, 
what  seems  the  flow:er-stalk  is  really  a  stalk  and  a  nectar- 
bearing  spur  run  into  one.  How  this  has  happened,  and 
why  it  has  happened,  one  can  easily  understand  by  the 
analogy  of  this  other  old-fashioned  garden  flower,  the 
common  nasturtium  or  Indian  cress. 

In  the  nasturtium,  you  see  at  once  that  the  upper 
lobe  of  the  calyx  is  prolonged  behind  into  a  deep  and 
pointed  spar  ;  and  you  have  probably  bitten  off  one  of 
these  spurij  at  some  time  or  other  and  have  found  that  it 
contained  a  large  supply  of  rather  pungent  but  very 
luscious  honey.  At  least,  it  seems  pungent  to  our 
clumsy  taste,  because  we  have  to  cut  or  bruise  the  tissues 
of  the  plant  in  order  to  get  at  it.  Now,  if  you  bend 
back  the  spur  of  the  nasturtium  so  as  to  make  it  touch 


SCARLET  GERANIUMS. 


149 


the  flower-stalk,  you  have  artificially  imitated  the  ar- 
rangement in  the  scarlet  geranium  ;  only  that  in  the 
geranium  the  two  parts  have  actually  coalesced,  for  a 
reason  which  I  shall  try  to  explain  a  little  later.  First, 
however,  let  us  see  how  the  scarlet  pelargonium  itself 
got  developed  out  of  a  primitive  ancestor,  something 
like  our  own  little  pink  herb-robert.  A  technical  book 
of  botany  w?ll  tell  you,  after  its  dogmatic  fashion,  that 
the  genus  geranium  is  distinguished  from  the  genus 
pelargonium  by  these  marks  or  differentiating  peculiari- 
ties :  the  geraniums  have  regular  flowers,  ten  stamens, 
and  five  honey-bearing  glands  on  the  disk,  and  they  are 
natives  of  almost  all  temperate  climates,  northern  or 
southern  ;  the  pelargoniums  have  irregular  flowers,  with 
two  upper  petals  different  from  the  remainder,  a  spurred 
honey-bearing  pouch  to  the  calyx,  no  glands  on  the  disk, 
and  only  about  five  stamens  instead  of  ten,  and  they  are 
confined  (in  their  wild  state)  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope 
and  a  few  neighboring  regions. 

Now  all  these  facts  are  very  significnnt :  they  show 
that  the  pelargoniums  are  a  highly  evolved  and  special- 
ized race,  produced  under  peculiar  circumstances  in  a 
limited  tract  of  country.  We  know  that  the  competition 
between  flowers  for  the  visits  of  fertilizing  insects  is  par- 
ticularly fierce  in  South  Africa  ;  because  from  no  other 
district  do  we  get  so  large  a  number  of  our  most  con- 
spicuous garden  blossoms  ;  and  wherever  such  strong 
competition  exists,  as  among  the  higher  Alps  and  in  the 
Arctic  regions,  where  bees  are  almost  unknown,  and 
butterflies  are  rare,  only  the  most  brilliant  and  attractive 
flowers  of  all  succeed  in  getting  fertilized.  Under  these 
circumstances,  the  native  geraniums  of  South  Africa 
have  been  compelled  to  specialize  themselves  into  the 
highly  peculiar  pelargonium  form  ;  or,  to  put  it  moro 


r^ 


150 


COLIN   clout's  calendar. 


li 


ill 


l 

; 

■'■i' 
ir 

Il| 

:['', 

correctly,  only  those  which  did  so  have  ultimately  sur- 
vived. 

Instead  of  having  five  honey -glands  on  an  open  disk, 
which  any  small  insects  could  easily  thieve,  the  pelargo- 
niums have  secreted  all  their  honey  in  one  depression, 
which  has  grown  longer  and  longer  till  at  length  it  has 
assumed  the  shape  of  a  deep  pc  ach.  This,  on  the  one 
hand,  has  made  it  accessible  only  to  insects  with  a  very 
long  proboscis  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  has  simulta- 
neously enabled  the  flower  to  make  more  sure  of  proper 
fertilization,  and  so  to  dispense  with  half  its  original  com- 
plement of  stamens.  The  sensitive  surface  of  the  pistil 
now  turns  down  to  meet  the  pollen  on  the  insect's  head, 
as  it  poises  on  level  wings  before  the  deep  nectary  ;  and 
this  surface  itself  consists  of  five  spreading  fingers,  cov- 
ered (under  a  slight  magnifying  power)  with  beautiful 
crystalline  glands  to  which  the  pollen  readily  adheres. 
The  irregularity  in  the  petals  follows  as  a  guide  to  the 
insect ;  the  upper  pair  being  slightly  raised  on  claws  in 
order  to*  let  him  get  more  easily  at  the  mouth  of  the 
tube.  In  the  common  scarlet  species  all  the  petals  are 
colored  nmch  alike  ;  but  in  these  rarer  kinds  that  grow 
by  its  side  the  irregularity  is  much  more  marked ;  for 
the  lower  three  are  uniform  in  hue,  while  the  upper  pair 
are  striped  with  darker  lines,  which  lead  straight  to  the 
opening  of  the  nectary,  thus  acting  as  regular  honey- 
guides. 

Much  the  same  thing  happens  in  the  nasturtium ; 
which,  however,  is  far  more  remotely  allied  to  the  true 
geraniums,  and  which  probably  arrived  at  its  own  similar 
arrangement  by  a  distinct  line  of  evolution.  Whether 
the  honey-tube  of  the  pelargonium  was  once  separate 
from  the  stalk,  as  that  of  the  nasturtium  still  is,  and 
whether  it  afterward  coalesced  with  it,  it  would  be  diffi- 


SCARLET  GERANIUMS. 


151 


cult  to  decide.     Certainly  there  would  be  a  slight  gain 
m  the  latter  plan,  as  I  have  often  seen  humble-bees  un- 
able  to  get  at  the  honey  of  the  nasturtium  in  a  lawful 
fashion  owing  to  the  length  of  the  tube  (which  is  not 
well  adapted  to  any  British  insect),  feloniously  appro- 
priate It  by  biting  througli  the  side-in  which  case,  of 
course,  they  cannot   benefit  the    plant,  as  they  do  not 
touch  the  pollen  or  fertilize   the  seeds  ;  while  I  have 
never  observed  anything  of  the  sort  happen  in  a  pelargo- 
mum,  where  the  honey  is  much  better  concealed.     It  is 
more  likely,  however,  that  the  spur  m  this  last  instance 
has  really  grown  out  of  a  slight  depression  along  the 
footstalk  ;  and,  if  so,  it  can  never  have  been  a  single 
separate  organ.  . 


'K^TT 


..iu.jmmn 


nam 


J 


f! 


XXVII. 


BAIN  ON   THE   EOOT   CROPS. 


Here  in  the  country  we  are  really  beginning  at  last  to 
lose  heart  altogether.  Night  after  night  we  see  the 
leaden  mists  gathering  ominously  over  Pilbury-hill ;  and 
morning  after  morning  we  see  a  fallacious  gleam  of  sun- 
shine or  two  peeping  through  the  lattice  at  five  o'clock, 
only  to  find  the  whole  sky  overcast  again  and  heavy 
showers  pattering  steadily  against  the  window-panes  an 
hour  before  breakfast-time.  Never  was  there  such  a 
diluvial  summer.  Sometimes  for  a  couple  of  days  at 
once  we  get  a  little  respite,  with  nothing  more  serious 
than  occasional  downpours  from  a  passing  white  fleece 
that  drifts  island -like  before  the  wind  through  a  sea  of 
blue  ;  and  then  the  deceptive  barometer  struggles  slowly 
upward  with  every  promise  of  settled  weather.  But  just 
as  the  mercury  and  our  spirits  rise  half-way  to  30, 
another  squadron  of  black  rain-clouds  comes  careering 
to  us  across  the  Atlantic,  till  the  glass  and  the  fanner's 
heart  sink  down  together  gloomily  to  "  very  stormy." 

To-day  is  just  as  bad  as  any  of  its  predecessors.  It  is 
now  a  full  month  since  we  carried  our  hay  in  the  lower 
croft,  and  still  to  this  moment  we  have  not  oeen  able  to 
put  a  scythe  into  the  high  meadow  on  the  top  of  War- 
down  ;  nor  do  I  see  any  chance  of  mowing  up  there  as 
long  as  those  big  dark  shadows  continue  to  chase  one 
another  with  such  cruelly  heedless  merriment  across  the 
broad  sloping  flank  of  Pilbury.  The  corn  in  the  Home 
Close  ought  now  to  be  filling  out  in  ear  under  a  genial 


RAIN   ON   THE   ROOT   CU0P3. 


isa 


's 


ial 


flood  of  sunshine  ;  instead  of  wliicli,  constant  rain  is 
turning  the  field  into  a  fine  crop  of  golden  charlock  ; 
while  as  to  the  turnips,  they  bid  fair  soon  to  afford  excel- 
lent cover  for  wild  duck,  which  could  be  most  conven- 
iently and  satisfactorily  shot,  American  fashion,  from  a 
shallow  punt  along  the  furrows.  In  such  weather  as 
this  it  is  good  to  be  a  philosopher  ;  and  one  may  at  least 
reflect  with  pleasure  that  crops  which,  are  spoiled  for  all 
practical  purposes  are  still  quite  good  enough  to  philoso- 
phize upon. 

Indeed,  from  the  biological  point  of  view,  even  the 
rain  is  not  witliout  a  certain  mournful  interest  of  its 
own.  Turnips  differ  very  little  in  their  origin  from 
charlock  ;  and  there  is  nothing  on  earth  that  charlock 
loves  so  much  as  a  wet  sunmier.  But,  then,  charlock  is 
not  anxious  for  fresh  material  to  store  up  in  its  root-stock 
for  the  flowering  season,  like  the  swedes  and  turnips. 
The  difference  all  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  weed  is  an 
annual,  while  the  plant  from  which  we  get  our  cultivated 
roots  has  been  practically  converted  under  our  hands  into 
a  sort  of  irregular  biennial.  There  is  a  wonderfully  close 
similarity  between  almost  all  these  cabbage  like  plants 
in  the  wild  state,  and  they  illustrate  beautifully  the  nat- 
ural limitations  of  man's  selective  agency  in  producing 
artificial  varieties.  Charlock  is  a  capital  typical  example 
of  the  race  ;  for  it  is  perhaps  one  of  the  simplest  and 
earliest  forms  now  surviving,  and  the  least  differentiated 
in  any  one  special  direction.  It  is  not  a  true  native,  but 
comes  to  us,  like  so  many  other  weeds  of  cultivation, 
from  those  South  European  lands  through  which  most 
of  our  fraits  and  cereals  passed  on  their  westward  way 
from  Central  Asia. 

Now,  in  charlock  there  is  no  natural  quality  which 
makes  it  worth  man's  while  to  subject  it  to  tillage  or 


'*r^ 


U 


h'^ 


v.: 


154 


oouN  clout's  calendar. 


artificial  selection.  Its  leaves  are  rongli,  coarse^  and 
hairy,  so  it  will  not  serve  for  the  basis  of  a  potherb  ;  its 
stem  is  hard  and  stringy,  so  it  will  not  serve  for  the  basis 
of  a  succulent  vegetable  like  sea-kalo  or  a8para£'us  ;  its 
seeds  are  small  and  ill  supplied  with  starches  or  food- 
stuffs, 60  it  will  not  serve  for  the  basis  of  a  grain  or 
pulse  ;  its  root  is  harsh,  and  rapidly  tapering  into  nu- 
merous subdivisions,  so  it  will  not  serve  for  the  basis  of 
a  swede  or  a  turnip.  Even  its  flowers,  though  gay  and 
bright  enough,  are  too  straggling  and  fugacious  to  make 
them  worth  cultivating  for  ornamental  purposes  ;  while 
its  fibres  are  not  fine  or  long  enough  to  twist  into  a  good 
rope  ;  and  therefore  the  charlock  is  probably  condemned 
to  remain  to  the  end  of  its  existence  nothing  more  than 
a  mere  field  weed,  hated  by  all  farmers,  and  rooted  out 
mercilessly  as  a  dangerous  competitor  to  the  pampered 
corn  crops. 

Most  of  the  cabbage  tribe  present,  on  the  whole,  very 
much  the  same  general  characteristics  ;  and  there  are, 
accordingly,  certain  fixed  limitations  in  their  possible 
uses  which  can  seldom  or  never  be  overcome.  So  far  as 
I  know,  not  a  single  one  of  the  cabbages,  or  of  the 
whole  crucifer  tribe  to  which  they  belong,  ever  yields 
an  edible  seed  ;  and  in  this  they  contrast  strongly  with 
the  grasses  and  the  pea-flowers,  which  supply  us  with 
almost  all  our  principal  grains  and  food-stuffs.  The 
reason  is  that  the  crucifers  have  never  learned  to  lay  up 
a  separate  store  of  albumen  beside  the  seed-leaves  of 
their  embryo,  nor  even  to  fill  the  seed-leaves  themselves 
with  starches  to  maintain  the  young  plant  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  its  struggling  existence.  On  the  other  hand, 
those  cabbageworts  which  deviate  slightly  from  the  cen- 
tral  charlock  type  may  be  utilized  in  certain  other  ways, 
in  accordance  with  the  nature  of  the  deviation.     Here, 


!  ^=" 


RAIN   ON  THE   ROOT   CROPS. 


155 


as 
Ihe 
ds 
th 
th 
he 


for  example,  growing  on  the  edge  of  the  turnip-field,  is 
the  undoubted  wild  ancestor  of  the  turnips  themselves — 
the  meadow  navew.  Its  leaves  are  still  rough  and 
hairy,  so  we  can  do  little  with  them  in  the  way  of  greens, 
though  when  young  and  tender  they  are  not  unpleasant, 
"with  their  slightly  bitter  spinach  flavor  ;  but  its  root  is 
larger  and  rounder  than  that  of  the  charlock  ;  and  here 
the  primitive  husbandman  shrewdly  saw  his  practical 
chance  of  an  edible  vegetable.  By  neglecting  leaves  or 
Beeds,  and  selecting  the  most  favorable  variations  in  the 
root,  he  at  last  succeeded  in  producing  a  modified  turnip, 
from  which  later  agriculturists  have  again  developed  the 
still  larger,  coarser,  and  rounder  swedes.  Moreover, 
though  the  seeds  are  but  small  and  poor,  they  contain  a 
considerable  proportion  of  oil ;  and  by  concentrating 
attention  on  this  peculiarity,  to  the  neglect  of  all  others, 
we  have  managed  also  to  evolve  independently  from  the 
same  parent  stock  another  variety,  the  rape-seed,  from 
which  we  express  colza  oil.  Each  of  these  plants  re- 
mains exactly  alike  in  foliage  and  flowers,  because  we 
have  expended  no  selective  action  upon  those  points  ; 
but  in  the  parts  on  which  selection  has  been  infinitely 
exercised  they  differ  widely  from  one  another,  and  from 
the  parent  wild  navew  whose  peculiarities  already  con- 
tained them  all  potentially  in  the  germ.  To  this  day, 
either  turnips  or  beets  which  **  break,"  as  we  call  it — 
that  is  to  say,  which  flower  at  the  natural  period — 
become  small  and  shrunken  ;  because  the  original  store 
of  food-stuffs  was  laid  by  in  the  root  for  the  flowering 
season  ;  and  when  the  blossoms  come  out  the  plant  has 
practically  reverted  to  its  primitive  condition.  Similarly 
with  the  cabbage  :  we  have  here  adopted  a  closely 
related  variety— one  can  hardly  call  it  a  species,  the  two 
lure  so  much  alijse— with  smooth  thickish  foliage  and  a 


II 


156 


COLIN  CLOUT^S  CALEKDAB. 


•A 


i»ft.. 


perennial  stock  ;  and  while  its  flowere,  roots,  and  seeds 
remain  unaltered,  wo  have  diverted  its  leaves  into  a  solid 
head,  and  produced  from  them  the  various  cabbages  and 
curly  kales  of  our  gardeners.  On  the  other  hand,  when 
wc  choose  to  fix  ourselves  upon  the  blossoms  alone,  we 
make  (or  rather  continuously  select)  a  diseased  form 
with  overfed  abortive  buds,  whicli  gives  us  from  the  self- 
same stock  our  cauliflowers  and  broccoli.  So  one  can 
readily  see  why  the  rain  which  suits  the  narrow  fibrous 
rootlets  of  the  charlock,  and  does  not  hurt  even  the  sim- 
ple wild  navew,  rots  and  destroys  the  big  artificially 
plimmed-out  taproot  of  our  cultivated  turnips. 

The  other  crucifers  lees  closly  related  to  the  tnie  cab- 
bages exemplify  the  same  principle  even  more  widely, 
and  cast  much  interesting  side-light  on  the  strong  and 
weak  points  of  the  analogy  between  man's  conscious 
selective  action  and  the  unconscious  prefercnro  oi  nature 
for  the  best  adapted  varieties.  Scurvy-grass  is  a  crucifer 
somewhat  more  advanced  in  type  than  +)ie  Cciliba  go  worts, 
in  that  its  flowers  are  white  ins^-oad  of  yellow  ;  and  from 
one  of  its  more  distant  south-eastern  reUtivcs  we  have 
adopted  our  own  horseradish,  whose  pungent  root, 
favored  and  preserved  in  the  natural  order  of  things 
because  of  the  protection  it  afforded  the  plant  against 
gnawing  animals,  has  been  utilized  by  ourselves  for  the 
sake  of  its  value  as  a  relish  in  small  quantities  to  our 
more  jaded  palates.  In  the  water-cress  and  other 
cresses,  which  are  also  members  of  the  same  group,  we 
are  similarly  attracted  by  the  very  essences  whicli  were 
meant  to  deter  the  animate  creation  ;  though  in  this 
case  wc  ourselves  do  not  care  for  them  except  when  the 
plants  are  very  young  and  tender.  Sea-kale,  again,  is  a 
maritime  Devonshire  weed,  introduced  into  our  gardens 
during  the  last  century ;  and  here  the  portion  of  the 


BAIN  OV   THE  ROOT  CROPS. 


157 


plant  we  eat  consists  of  the  succulent  shoots  which  force 
their  way  up  through  the  sand  in  spring,  and  which  we 
intentionally  lengthen  out  and  blanch  by  the  device  of 
artificial  banking.  Gardeners  say  that  it  flourishes  best 
even  now  when  surrounded  by  its  natural  element — sand 
from  the  se:;  -shore.  The  origin  of  our  radish  is  not  known 
with  certainty,  though  it  probably  represents  an  improv- 
ed southern  variety  of  the  jointed  charlock  that  grows  by 
road-sides  in  many  parts  of  England. 

All  these  are  purely  useful  variations  on  the  one  primi- 
tive theme  ;  but  there  are  some  other  crucifers  whose 
flowers  have  been  developed  into  a  higher  state  of  per- 
fection by  insect  selection,  and  many  of  these  supply  us 
with  a  groundwork  for  ornamental  garden  blossoms. 
Simplest  among  them  are  the  little  white  alyssum,  with 
its  sweet  honey  perfume,  and  the  queer  one-sided  candy- 
tufts of  old-fashioned  gardens,  whose  two  outer  petals 
have  grown  longer  and  broader  than  the  two  inner  ones, 
so  as  to  present  a  larger  total  attractive  surface,  thus 
clearly  bearing  witness  on  their  very  faces  to  the  inter- 
vention of  insect  agency.  Even  higher  in  this  respect 
are  the  stocks  and  gillyflowers,  whoso  petals  are  raised 
on  long  claws,  so  as  to  form  a  tube  for  the  preservation 
of  the  honey  from  minor  flies  and  beetles.  These  and  a 
vast  number  of  other  garden  plants  or  wild  weeds  are  all 
shown  by  their  common  points  of  structure  to  be  de- 
scended from  a  single  original  ancestor  ;  and  the  peculi- 
arities which  natural  selection  has  stamped  upon  them 
have  \n  many  cases  been  further  developed  or  exagger- 
ated by  the  action  of  man.  In  fact  it  would  almost  seem 
as  though  we  had  but  to  set  an  ideal  before  our  eyes, 
and  then  by  constant  selection  to  bring  it  about  bodily  in 
the  sphere  of  concrete  reality.  On  the  other  hand, 
wherever  the  natural  tendencies  exist  we  may  produce 


f 


im 


tJOWN  <?IiOUT*tJ  HAVfimiXlU 


"vevj  like  effects  in  the  most  widely  different  fitmilies. 
Thus  the  carrot  does  not  belong  to  the  same  group  as  the 
turnips  at  all,  buc  is  a  similar  highly  evolved  root  of  the 
extremely  unlike  parsley  and  chervil  tribe  ;  while  the 
beet  and  mangel-wurzel  are  equally  remote  by  ancestry, 
being  artificial  products  from  the  goosefoot  and  spinach 
line  of  descent. 


i^  i 


it 


i.  f 


XXVIII. 


HOPS   BLOSSOM. 


How  infinitely  various  and  wonderful  is  Nature  ! 
Every  day  her  chronicler  has  something  fresh  to  relate, 
and  every  day  he  has  to  make  his  choice  between  a 
thousand  equal  and  conflicting  claims.  To-day  the  bees 
are  at  their  annual  massacre  of  the  drones  ;  and  as  I 
passed  the  hive  I  saw  them  busy  at  that  unnatural  orgy 
which  leaves  human  noyades  and  fusillades  far  behind  in 
ingrained  ferocity,  w^ere  it  only  by  its  measured  and  in- 
stinctive character.  To-day  the  first  teasel  of  the  season 
opens  its  buds,  and  the  insects  by  the  orchard  are  all 
agog  accordingly,  crowding  with  an  inquiring  proboscis 
around  the  serried  bayonets  that  guard  its  heads  of 
bloom.  To-day  the  fleabane  expands  its  rays  ;  to-day 
the  water-plantain  bursts  into  pinky-white  blossom  by  the 
river-side  ;  to-day  the  wild  clematis  begins  to  drape  the 
hedgerow  with  its  long  festoons  of  clustered  flowers. 
To-day,  too,  we  get  the  first  distant  reminder  of  coming 
autumn  ;  for  T  see  the  oats  are  beginning  to  mellow  ; 
and  the  swifts,  far  earliest  of  our  migatory  birds  to  wing 
their  w^ay  southward,  have  already  deserted  their  nests 
under  the  eaves  of  the  church,  where,  like  ardent  ecclesi- 
clogists  that  they  are,  they  love  best  to  fix  their  summer 
quarters.  They  left  us  but  yesterday,  and  by  this  time 
they  are  doubtless  calmly  taking  a  bird's-eye  view  of 
affairs  at  Alexandria.  But,  perhaps,  of  all  the  events 
that  mark  this  morning  in  the  rural  calendar,  the  most 
practically  important  to  man  is  the  blossoming  cf  the 


m  1 


1' 


if 


160 


COLIN  clout's   calendar. 


hops.  Passing  tlie  bines  on  my  way  down  to  the  river 
— trout  are  rising  well  in  the  shade  this  week — I  notice 
that  the  young  cones  have  now  just  opened,  and  that  the 
little  green  flowers  are  now  fully  expanded  in  good  time 
for  an  early  harvest.  The  fly  that  threatened  such  evil 
things  a  few  weeks  ago  disappeared  suddenly  with  the 
wet  weather  ;  and  now,  if  all  goes  well,  the  hops  at  least 
may  prove  a  successful  vintage  amid  all  the  failures  of 
this  disastrous  year.  With  tine  weather  in  future,  we 
may  perhaps  hope  to  begin  picking  by  the  last  days  of 
August. 

No  plant  grown  for  economical  purposes  is  more 
graceful  and  beautiful  in  its  mode  of  growth  than  the 
hop.  It  stands  alone  ainong  the  nettle  tribe  in  its  twin- 
ing habit ;  and,  indeed,  it  has  diverged  so  widely  from 
all  the  rest  of  its  kin,  in  pursuance  of  this  abnormal 
trick,  that  it  now  occupies  a  special  genus  all  to  itself  ; 
in  other  words,  it  has  broken  so  completely  with  its  an- 
cestral type  that  no  intermediate  links  at  present  remain 
to  connect  it  directly  with  its  nearest  congeners.  Noth- 
ing could  be  more  unlike  at  first  sight  than  a  lissom 
creeper  such  as  the  hop,  and  a  stiff  erect  roadside  weed 
such  as  the  stinging-nettle.  Yet  both  are  immediately 
descended,  at  no  great  distance  of  time,  from  a  single 
common  progenitor  ;  and  both  retain  in  a  very  marked 
degree  all  the  most  distinctive  features  of  underlying 
structure  which  they  inherit  together  from  their  similar 
ancestry.  The  flowers  are  almost  identical  in  hops  and 
nettles,  as  well  as  in  their  yet  humbler  ally  the  pellitory 
— Solomon's  *' hyssop  that  springeth  out  of  the  wall," 
whose  English  name  is  a  mere  corruption  oi  parietariay 
just  as  pilgrim  is  of  j>eregrinu8.  In  all  three  the  male 
and  female  blossoms  are  distinct.  In  all  three  they  con- 
BiBt}  among  the  males  at  least,  of  four  or  five  green 


t!     Wl 


HOPS  BliOSSOM. 


161 


lie 
in 


leaflets,  inclosing  an  equal  number  of  elastic  stamens. 
Contrary  to  the  usual  rule  in  flowers,  the  stamens  are  ar- 
ranged opposite  to  the  calyx  scales,  instead  ol  alternately 
with  them — a  fact  which  shows  that  a  row  of  petals,  once 
intermediate  between  stamens  and  calyx,  has  been  sup- 
pressed by  disuse,  owing  to  the  acquisition  by  the  flowers 
of  the  habit  of  wind-fertilization.  For,  normally  speak- 
ing, all  tlie  successive  rows  in  flowers  are  arranged  al- 
ternately with  one  another,  as  anybody  may  see  in  a 
moment  by  looking  at  a  fuchsia  or  a  strawberry  blossom  ; 
but  when  the  petals  are  lost  through  change  of  habit  the 
other  whorls  appear  to  stand  opposite  to  one  another, 
though  the  real  nature  of  their  arrangement  is  always 
preserved  for  us  in  intermediate  forms,  with  very  small 
petals,  which  are  occasionally  entirely  wanting.  By 
these  and  numerous  other  minute  agreements  in  points 
of  structure,  the  nettles,  hops,  and  pellitories  are  all  seett 
to  be  descendants  of  a  single  common  ancestor,  which 
had  already  lost  its  petals  and  had  separated  its  sexes  in 
different  flowers,  but  had  not  yet,  of  course,  acquired 
any  of  the  special  chracteristics  that  mark  off  the  nettles, 
the  hops,  and  the  pellitories  from  one  another. 

On  the  other  hand  the  hop  itself  must  very  early 
have  begun  its  own  special  differentiation  from  this  old 
central  generalized  form  ;  or  else  it  would  not  now 
exhibit  so  many  points  of  minute  adaptation  to  its  own 
peculiar  habitat,  nor  would  it  be  so  distinctly  marked 
off  from  its  other  divergent  relatives  on  either  side. 
"While  all  of  the  nettles  are  mere  soft  herbs,  and  most  of 
the  pellitories  are  slightly  shrubby  weeds,  the  hop  has 
acquired  the  habit  of  producing  a  stout  perennial  root- 
stock  ;  from  which  each  spring  it  sends  up  wonderfully 
long  annual  stems,  that  climb  to  an  immense  height  over 
the  poles  in  cultivation  or  over  bushes  and  thickets^  in 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


the  wild  state,  dying  down  again  entirely  with  the  ap- 
proach of  winter.  I  know  nothing  more  marvellous  in 
the  way  of  growth  than  the  rapidity  with  which  these 
lithe  bines  curl  spirally  up  the  bare  poles  in  early 
summer — at  first  on  the  strength  of  material  laid  by  in 
their  buried  root-stocks,  but  afterward  by  the  rapid  as- 
simili  tion  of  aerial  food  from  the  surrounding  atmos- 
phere. As  one  watches  the  slender  young  sprays  and 
the  graceful  tive-lobed  heart-shaped  leaves,  rendered  so 
singularly  like  those  of  the  wholly  unconnected  grape- 
vine by  exact  similarity  of  situation  and  function,  one 
can  almost  see  them  with  the  eye  of  scientific  faith 
drinking  in  the  carbon  visibly  from  the  air  around  by 
the  numerous  tJiirsty  pores  on  their  under  surface. 

Everything  here  has  been  obviously  designed  for  the 
climbing  habit.  The  rough  hairs  which  in  the  nettle 
serve  as  glandular  reservoirs  for  a  deterrent  poison  are 
transformed  in  the  hop,  by  a  thickening  of  their  base, 
into  recurved  prickles,  which  serve  as  hooks  to  aid  the 
plant  in  hanging  to  the  poles,  or  rather,  in  the  wild 
state,  in  clambering  over  small  trees  and  hedgerows  ;  for 
of  course  the  origi?ial  evolving  bines  could  never  have 
contemplated  their  descendants'  future  domestication 
in  Kentish  hop-gardens.  If  you  run  your  finger  and 
thumb  upward  along  the  branches  or  young  sprays, 
against  the  grain,  you  will  find  that  these  prickles  cut 
like  a  rasp  ;  while  if  you  look  at  a  wild  hop  festooning  a 
hedge,  in  free  luxuriance,  in  and  out  among  the  equally 
prickly  goose-grasses  and  other  climbers,  you  will  recog- 
nize at  once  that  the  hooks  have  been  developed  by  nat- 
ural selection  for  the  same  purpose  as  the  tendrils  of  the 
vine  and  the  pea,  or  as  the  little  sucker-like  rootlets  of 
the  ivy.  Every  climbing  plant  must  needs  possess  some 
such  means  of  clinging  to  its  chosen  support ;  and  the 


HOPS  BLOSSOM. 


163 


particular  means  it  happens  in  each  case  to  develop  will 
depend  entirely  upon  the  nature  of  its  organization 
before  it  began  to  acquire  the  twining  habit.  In  the  vine 
and  the  pea,  tendrils  readily  grew  out  of  branches  or  leaf- 
stalks ;  in  the  hop  and  the  goose-grass,  hooks  were  more 
easily  produced  out  of  pre-existent  hairs  and  asperities 
still  retained  in  their  original  fonn  by  other  descendants 
of  the  common  ancestor. 

It  is  the  flowers  of  the  hop,  however,  that  give  it  its 
chief  interest  in  the  eyes  of  bibulous  humanity  ;  and  the 
flowering  mechanism  is  the  part  of  its  organization  in 
which  the  plant  most  widely  departs  from  the  norma  of 
its  race.  On  the  specialization  of  this  part,  in  fact,  it 
has  expended  its  chief  attention.  In  pellitory  a  few  of 
the  bloesoms  still  remain  hennaphrodite,  with  stamens 
and  ovaries  in  the  same  flower  ;  in  most  of  the  nettles 
all  the  blossoms  are  separately  either  male  or  female, 
though  both  kinds  grow  together  on  the  same  plant ; 
but  in  the  hop,  as  in  the  commonest  stinging-nettle,  the 
two  kinds  of  flowera  are  altogether  divided,  each  indi- 
vidual bine  bearing  on  its  clusters  only  one  sort  or  the 
other.  The  staminiferous  blossoms  are  of  small  practical 
interest :  they  consist  simply  of  these  inconspicuous 
little  yellowish-green  panicles,  hanging  from  the  angles 
of  the  upper  leaves  in  this  wild  creeper,  and  looking 
very  much  like  their  near  relations  the  nettle  flowers. 
Still,  they  keep  up  something  like  the  semblance  of  a 
floral  pattern,  having  each  five  small  green  sepals  and 
five  curved  stamens  inclosed  in  their  midst.  The  female 
flowers,  however,  which  grow  at  last  into  what  we  know 
as  hops,  luivc  become  so  degraded  or  so  highly  developed, 
whichever  you  choose  to  call  it,  that  their  true  nature 
is  now  hardly  recognizable  at  all.  Their  little  florets 
are  closely  crowded  together  in  globular  heads,  look- 


n<.-r 


i:-l 


1 

'II 

■ 
i 

I 

il 

ff 

1' 

■   ' 

•  f/ 

'  ..'I 


164 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


ing  much  like  a  miniature  green  pine-cone  ;  and  under 
each  bract  of  the  cone  two  minute  flowers  are  packed 
away  carefully  in  a  corner,  with  their  calyx  reduced  to  a 
tiny  protective  scale,  and  the  rest  of  their  architecture 
simplified  down  to  a  single  ovary  inclosing  one  spirally 
coiled  seed.  It  is  the  central  floral  idea  reduced  to  its 
simplest  possible  factors.  From  the  scales  the  sensitive 
surface  protrudes  to  catch  the  pollen  blown  to  it  in  the 
wild  state  from  the  male  on  its  feathery  arms  ;  and  then 
the  fertilized  cone  begins  to  swell,  and  the  bracts  grow 
out  into  large  inflated  cups,  quite  concealing  the  small 
seed-like  fruit.  Whether  their  bitterness  has  been  ac- 
quired as  a  deterrent  to  animal  enemies  it  would  be  hard 
to  say ;  certainly,  it  has  not  availed  to  protect  them 
against  man,  who  from  time  immemorial  has  employed 
the  hops  to  flavor  the  insipid  drink  which  he  prepares 
from  malted  grain,  "  in  quandam  vini  similitudinem  cor- 
ruptum,"  as  Tacitus  puts  it,  with  naive  southern  con- 
temptuousness  for  the  barbaric  stimulant.  Certainly, 
no  other  plant  has  been  so  little  transformed  under  the 
hands  of  man  ;  for,  except  so  far  as  the  mode  of  its  cul- 
tivation goes,  it  is  still  essentially  the  same  species  in  the 
Kentish  hop-gardens  as  it  is  when  it  climbs  at  its  own 
free  will  over  the  hedges  and  thickets  of  South-western 
England. 


XXIX. 


THE   DEPARTURE   OF  THE   SWIFTS. 

The  earliest  among  all  onr  summer  migrants  to  leave 
lis  for  warmer  autumn  quarters  are  those  large,  dark, 
rapid  swallows,  known  best  to  country  people  as  black 
martins  or  jack-screamers,  but  to  which  ornithologists 
have  given  the  very  appropriate  name  of  swifts.  They 
come  in  spring  a  week  or  ten  days  later  than  their  con- 
geners— about  the  25th  of  April  in  an  average  year — and 
they  are  all  gone  again  by  the  first  week  in  August,  only 
a  very  rare  straggler  being  ever  seen  in  England  after  the 
middle  of  the  month.  Even  in  Southern  Europe  they 
do  not  linger  into  September.  No  other  bird — except 
their  ally,  the  humming-bird — is  so  ceaselessly  active  on 
its  wings  as  the  swift.  Popular  science  (or  what  once 
passed  for  such)  has  told  the  same  story  about  it  as  about 
the  bird  of  paradise  :  that  it  had  no  feet,  and  so  was 
compelled  to  keep  forever  on  the  wing — except  when 
in  its  nest  ;  and  the  fable  has  even  been  enshrined  by 
more  rigid  biologists  in  its  systematic  name  of  Cypselus 
ajpits.  On  early  summer  evenings  you  may  see  the 
swifts  skimming  the  surface  of  still  pools  on  their  broad 
wings,  catching  the  May-files  and  dragon-flies  that  hover 
above  the  edge,  and  sometimes  just  dipping  below  the 
level  in  their  curved  sweep  to  take  a  flying  sip  from  the 
water  as  they  go.  Their  monotonous  shrill  scream  never 
ceases  for  a  moment  meanwhile  ;  for  the  swift  appears 
to  be  all  nerve  and  muscle — a  sort  of  miniature  engine 
for  perpetual  motion,  self-feeding  and    self-governing, 


L l.J«!IM 


t 


II!        . 

! :  Hi 


166 


coLiK  clout's  calendar. 


but  nsing  up  all  its  powers  from  minute  to  mimite,  till  at 
last  it  runs  down  incontinently  from  sheer  wearing  out 
of  the  unwearied  vital  mechanism. 

I  often  fancy  that  time  to  the  swift  must  seem  far 
fuller,  and  ciierefore  far  longer,  than  it  seems  to  us.  An 
hour  must  be  so  crammed  with  fresh  impressions  and 
ever-varying  emotions  in  those  quickly  pulsating  little 
brains,  that  it  must  lengthen  out  subjectively  to  the  ap- 
parent dimensions  of  a  human  month.  Shelley  once 
finely  said,  in  one  of  those  luminous  philosophic  moments 
which  make  him  at  times  more  than  a  mere  poet  in  the 
purely  artistic  sense,  that  if  an  infinity  of  thought  could 
be  crowded  into  a  minute,  that  minute  would  be  eternity. 
Now,  if  one  reflects  that  the  swifts  which  are  among 
broad  English  oaks  to-day  will  be  among  the  laden  vine- 
yards of  Andalusia  to-morrow,  and  among  the  palm- 
groves  and  mosques  of  Algeria  the  next  day— not  cooped 
up  by  the  road  in  narrow  covered  boxes,  but  winging 
their  way  freely  with  their  own  wide  pinions,  and  look- 
ing down  with  unobstructed  gaze  upon  all  the  interven- 
ing seas  and  mountains  as  they  pass — one  can  understand 
that  perhaps  to  them  that  wild  sense  of  exuberance  and 
richness  in  feeling  which  balloonists  always  tell  us  they 
experience  in  the  upper  air  may  be  the  regular  and  habit- 
ual experience  of  these  little  birds'  aerial  life. 

And  not  only  must  each  moment  be  always  full  for 
them  of  constantly  shifting  impressions  ;  but  their  ner- 
vous organism  itself  must  be  attuned  for  a  more  hurried 
flow  of  consciousness  than  is  possible  with  our  sluggish 
human  brain  and  muscles.  The  rapid  movements  of 
wing  and  breast  in  the  swift  imply  and  necessitate  a 
rapid  action  of  the  heart,  a  rapid  circulation  of  the  blood, 
a  rapid  inhalation  and  exhalation  in  the  lungs.  In  a 
given  time  the  swift  moves  more,  breathes  more,  and 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  THE  SWIFTS. 


167 


1*» 

3h 
>f 
a 

|d, 

a 

id 


therefore  probably  feels  and  lives  more,  than  any  other 
known  animal.  Of  course  the  quality  of  its  thinking 
need  not  be  at  all  high,  judged  by  a  human  standard  ; 
but  the  quality  of  its  vitality,  the  extent  to  which  it  lives 
its  life,  must  apparently  be  very  high  indeed.  For  a 
quick  flow  of  warm  blood  through  the  brain  means  on 
the  subjective  side  a  vast  total  wave  of  consciousness, 
sensory  or  emotional ;  and  it  also  probably  means  a  very 
rapid  succession  of  ideas,  however  simple,  a  relatively 
quicker  perception  of  external  objects,  and  a  relatively 
faster  adjustment  of  muscular  movement  to  the  move- 
ments of  surrounding  things.  Any  one  who  watches  the 
swifts  wheeling  and  curvetting  over  the  water,  or  dart- 
ing with  unerring  swoop  at  flies  which  seem  themselves 
to  darL  faster  than  a  human  eye  can  follow,  need  hardly 
doubt  that  to  their  simple  little  minds  a  second  is  an  ap- 
preciable interval  of  time,  during  which  there  is  room 
enough  to  form  an  idea,  to  make  a  muscular  co-ordina- 
tion, and  to  carry  the  desired  movement  out  in  fact. 

Kor  need  we  even  suppose  that  the  action  of  the  swift 
is  like  the  action  of  a  cricketer  catching  a  ball  ofiE  the 
bat,  where  the  muscular  adjustments  are  made  with  an 
unconscious  celerity  and  accuracy  which  sometimes  ap- 
pear  surprising  even  to  the  actor  himself  ;  for  the  crick- 
eter is  performing  an  exceptional  and  remarkable  act,  a 
tour  deforce  of  co-ordination  in  its  own  way  ;  whereas 
the  swift  is  only  doing  what  all  its  race  habitually  do  and 
have  done  for  countless  generations.  It  is  impossible 
not  to  admit  that  there  are  real  differences  in  the  appar- 
ent value  of  time  to  different  nervous  organizations. 
The  wing  of  a  gnat  beats  many  thousand  separate  beats 
in  a  minute  ;  and  each  beat,  though  doubtless  purely 
automatic,  still  implies  for  its  motor-power  a  distinct 
nervous  impulse.     The    swift  is   far  less  rapid  in  its 


^ 


riiii 


ET,  m 


168 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


movements  than  that ;  but  then  each  movement  of  the 
swift  is  almost  certainly  conscious  and  voluntary.  We 
can  hardly  doubt  that  if  clock-hands  and  fly-wheels 
were  both  alive,  a  minute  would  seem  a  much  longer 
division  of  time  to  the  fly-wheel  than  to  the  clock-hand. 
It  has  been  well  said  that  in  acute  mania  the  nervous 
organism  is  burning  itself  out  too  fast ;  what  is  morbid 
in  the  lunatic  is  normal  and  healthy  in  such  a  bird  as  the 
swift. 

Swifts  eat  on  the  wing,  drink  on  the  wing,  and  collect 
materials  for  their  nest  on  the  wing.  Hence,  like  all 
other  very  active  creatures,  they  produce  extremely  small 
broods  ;  for  the  material  used  up  in  muscular  motion 
cannot  also  be  devoted  to  genesis  as  woll.  The  nests 
are  usually  rude  unshapely  structrves,  under  the  eaves 
of  churches  or  among  the  ruins  of  old  buildings  gener- 
ally ;  and  only  two  eggs  are  usually  laid  by  each  mother 
in  a  single  season.  It  would  be  a  curious  question  what 
these  haunters  of  old  buildings  did  for  a  home  before  the 
days  of  civilized  man  ;  for  1  have  never  known  them 
build  away  from  human  habitations  or  churches.  Per- 
haps the  species  in  its  present  form  may  really  date  later 
than  civilization,  as  one  may  suspect  of  many  other  creat- 
ures, both  weeds  and  house  parasites,  like  geckos  and 
crickets  ;  for  after  all,  even  civilization  is  old  enough  to 
have  exercised  some  minor  transforming  influence  upon 
the  oiiter  shapes  of  organic  beings,  as  it  undoubtedly 
has  upon  their  habits  and  instincts. 

Long  ago,  Gilbert  White  was  much  puzzled  with  the 
difficulty,  suggested  to  him  by  the  swifts,  as  to  what 
became  of  the  annual  increase  which  must  take  place 
even  among  such  small  breeders  as  these ;  for  though 
they  lay  but  two  eggs  at  a  time,  and  sit  but  once  each 
Bcmmer,  instead  of  twice  like  the  other  swallowB,  yet 


THE   DEPAKTURB  OF  THE   SWIFTS. 


169 


that  must  give  a  constant  increment  of  population  at  tlio 
rate  of  about  doul)le  every  year,  even  after  allowing  for 
normal  deaths  of  old  birds.  What  becomes  of  such  iu- 
crease  ?  That  was  the  question  that  puzzled  the  natural- 
ist of  Selborne  ;  and  if  he  had  been  a  Darwin,  or  even 
a  Malthus,  it  might  have  led  him  gradually  on  to  the 
great  discovery  of  the  principle  of  natural  selection 
which  has  since  revolutionized  all  biological  science. 
As  it  was,  he  came  only  to  the  lame  and  impotent  con- 
clusion that  they  must  disperse  themselves  over  the  re- 
mainder of  the  world  ;  as  though  Selborne  church-tower 
were  the  central  Ararat  of  an  unpeopled  and  vacant  con- 
tinent, whence  endless  colonies  might  go  forth  to  in- 
crease and  multiply  and  replenish  the  earth.  In  sober 
fact,  ore  half  of  them  fail  to  pick  up  a  living  at  all ;  the 
other  half  just  keep  up  the  standard  of  the  race  to  its 
fixed  numerical  average  ;  for  everybody  who  has  watch- 
ed the  swifts  closely  knows  that  each  year  just  the  same 
number  of  pairs  return  punctually  to  just  the  same  ac- 
customed stations  in  just  the  same  ancestral  towers.  In- 
deed, that  is  the  rule  with  the  vast  majority  of  species, 
animal  or  vegetable.  There  are  a  few  which,  like  man, 
the  Colorado  beetle,  and  the  Canadian  pond-weed,  are 
rapidly  increasing  and  overrunning  the  world  ;  there  are 
a  few  other  which,  like  the  great  auk,  the  beaver,  and 
the  edelweiss,  are  rapidly  dying  out  before  their  enemies. 
But  by  far  the  greater  number  seem  to  continue  abso- 
lutely invariable  from  year  to  year,  at  least  within  the 
range  of  ordinary  human  observation.  Out  of  40,000 
seeds  of  one  common  English  weed,  only  a  single  seed  on 
an  average  produces  a  full-grown  plant  every  season. 


V 


'I.  t. 
r  ■ 


■'ft 


■ffr.\, 

ft 


XXX. 

WATEE8IDE   WEEDS. 

At  the  extreme  lower  end  of  the  farni)  where  the 
three-cornered  croft  adjoins  Smallcombo  Barton,  ourh'ttle 
hrooklet  Venhiko  broadens  out  for  fifty  yards  or  so  into 
a  sliallow  cattle-pond,  covered  on  its  surface  with  bright 
green  fronds  of  floating  duckweed,  and  bordered  at  the 
edge  by  a  lush  margin  of  rank  sedges  and  tall  black- 
crested  reed-mace.  The  vegetation  of  this  valley  pool  is 
quite  different  in  type  from  the  sundews  and  butterworts 
of  the  upland  bogs,  and  yet  it  is  almost  equally  wild  and 
beautiful  in  character  after  its  own  special  fashion. 
Comparisons,  indeed,  are  never  more  odious  than  in  the 
matter  of  natural  scenery.  The  other  day,  when  I  was 
wandering  among  the  tufted  cotton-grasses  and  pretty 
orange  bog- asphodels  of  the  marshy  patch  on  the  com- 
mon, I  said  in  my  haste  that  there  was  nothing  in  Eng- 
land 80  native  and  graceful  in  its  beauty  as  that  exquisite 
flora  ui  the  peaty  upland  ;  to-day  as  I  stand  by  this  little 
pool  of  Yenlake — a  mere  water-logged  corner  trodden 
down  apparently  by  the  heifers  coming  constantly  to 
drink  where  the  bank  stands  lowest — I  feel  aa  though  1 
must  go  back  upon  my  own  words,  and  give  the  first 
place  for  gracefulness  among  English  plants  to  the  water- 
side flags  and  upright  cat's-tails.  See,  here  by  the  little 
rapids  where  the  beck  tumbles  by  miniature  cascades 
into  the  pond,  the  aromatic  sweet-gale  grows  in  un- 
wonted profusion  ;  smallest  of  our  native  catkin-bearing 
trees  (e^^cept  the  dwarf  creeping  willows),  it  loves  the 


WATERSIDE   WEEDS. 


171 


neighborhood  of  nniniiijG^  water,  whore  itR  little  tliickset 
bushoH  riHc  to  a  liei^iit  of  two  or  three  feet  only,  and  its 
(•.liist(!r.<  of  tiiiv  nutK,  dotted  with  little  hidis  of  resin 
like  beads  of  and)er,  overhang  the  petty  brink  with  their 
frag-rsint  bunches.  CruKh  the  shii«y  foliage  between 
your  lingers,  and  it  yields  at  once  a  grateful  country  ])er- 
fui!i<',  redolent  of  the  wholesome  resin  in  its  dotted 
leaves.  Tlcre,  too,  are  tall  bur-r(;eds,  with  their  globu- 
lar heads  of  greenish  ilowers  ;  and  here  are  great  grace- 
ful white-blossoined  arrowheads  ;  and  here  are  the  loll- 
ing lieart-shaped  leaves  of  the  Hoating  ])ond-weed  ;  and 
licrc  again  are  the  tall  black  reeds,  looking  like  natural 
maces,  with  their  thick  black  heads  and  their  waving 
summit  of  ragged  fhitfy  cotton,  standing  sentinel  in  long 
rows  over  the  shorter  vegetation  in  their  shadow  beneath. 
The  truth  is,  our  ordinary  taste  in  the  matter  of  flow- 
ers, and  especially  of  wild  flowers,  is  still  a  trifle  bar- 
baric. The  first  thing  that  strikes  clnldrcn  or  savages  in 
flowers  is  their  brightly-colored  petals  ;  they  care  little 
for  beauty  of  shape  in  blossoms,  for  gracefulness  and  del- 
icacy of  outline  in  folia;"  ,  for  the  glossy  leaves  of  tho 
holly  or  the  hartst^ngi:?,  "or  the  infinite  variety  that 
custom  cannot  stale  in  the  (  .isped  and  wrinkled  fronds 
of  ferns.  When  riicy  pic  .  a  nosegay,  it  is  all  bright 
blossoms  without  a  touch  of  relieving  verdure  ;  the 
only  thing  they  care  for  is  the  crude  staring  red  and  blue 
of  tho  largest  petals.  Accordingly,  all  the  earliest 
flowers  to  be  selected  for  cultivation  were  the  biggest 
and  brightest  in  hue — the  roses,  peonies,  sunflowers, 
and  hollyhocks.  It  is  only  very  lately  that  we  liavo 
begun  also  to  choose  some  plants  for  their  foliage  or  their 
general  effect  ;  to  grow  purple-leaved  coleuscs,  (juaintly 
lop-sided  begonias,  and  crimson -hearted  caladiums  in  our 
greenhouses  ;  to  pleach  out  pampas-grass,  and  weeping 


!j<'l 


172 


COLIN  clout's  CALENBAB. 


willows,  and  feathery  deodars  with  artful  carelessness  on 
our  lawns  and  shrubberies  ;  to  cover  the  naked  crannies  of 
our  poor  imitation  rock-work  with  the  dainty  tracery  of 
ferns  and  club-mosses.  Even  now,  we  have  not  paid 
sufficient  attention  to  the  ornamental  value  of  the  com- 
mon wind-fertilized  plants.  They  have  no  gay  petals  to 
attract  us,  like  their  insect-haunted  allies  ;  they  do  not 
strike  the  eye  at  once  in  the  dappled  meadows,  like  tho 
buttercups,  the  fritillaries,  the  clematis,  and  the  wild 
daffodils  ;  yet  they  have  a  wonderful  indescribable  grace 
and  beauty  of  their  own,  which  nobody  can  fail  to  ap- 
preciate, at  least  when  once  attention  has  been  conscious- 
ly directed  to  their  more  modest  and  retiring  shapes. 
Their  flowers  usually  either  hang  out  loosely  in  long 
waving  panicles,  like  the  grasses  and  sedges,  or  else  clus- 
ter closely  together  in  curious  globular  or  cylindrical 
heads,  like  the  reeds  and  the  catkins.  It  is  to  this  class 
that  most  of  the  waterside  weeds  in  England  belong ; 
and  they  share  with  all  other  wind-fertilized  plants  not 
only  the  common  gracefulness  of  habit,  but  also  the 
connnon  marks  of  degradation  or  degeneracy  from 
higher  and  more  conspicuous  petal-bearing  ancestors. 

Look  first  at  the  floating  pond- weed  here,  with  its  del- 
icate leaves  just  basking  on  the  surface  of  the  pool,  the 
older  ones  of  a  rich  glossy  green  as  they  spread  along  the 
water's  top,  the  younger  ones  not  yet  unrolled  and  of  a 
pale  chocolate  brown  or  fawn-color  in  the  h?lf-opened 
bud.  From  the  centre,  a  spike  of  little  greenish  flow- 
ers projects  above  the  level  of  the  water,  as  plain  and 
unnoteworthy  an  inflorescence,  I  must  admit,  as  anybody 
could  wish  to  see.  Yet  even  here  the  plant  as  a  whole 
is  made  beautiful  by  its  heart-shaped  floating  foliage,  by 
the  long  thin  transparent  sheaths  that  guard  its  stem,  and 
by  the  singulai'ly  lovely  color  of  its  unopened  leaves. 


WATERSIDE   WEEDS. 


173 


by 

68. 


And  if  you  look  closely  at  the  separate  flowers  them- 
selves, you  will  see  that  they  each  bear  obvious  marks  of 
their  ultimate  derivation  from  bright  petal-bearing  pro- 
genitors in  their  possession  of  four  little  green  scales 
surrounding  their  stamens,  the  last  stunted  relic  of  their 
original  colored  corolla.  This  is  a  case  where  degrada- 
tion has  only  gone,  comparatively  speaking,  a  very  little 
way.  We  can  still  see  on  the  face  of  the  flower  the 
rudiments  of  its  former  petals,  though  all  their  function 
is  now  lost. 

Turn  next  to  the  bur-reed  here,  this  much-branched 
bushy-looking  succulent  plant  whose  long  lance-like 
leaves  closely  overhang  the  shallow  edge  of  the  pool. 
Its  flowers  look  at  first  sight  like  mere  round  knobs  or 
balls,  stuck  quaintly  on  to  the  side  of  the  thick  juicy 
branches,  and  decreasing  in  size  toward  the  ends  of  the 
green  twigs,  from  the  diameter  of  a  whiteheart  cherry 
to  that  of  a  small  pea.  But  when  you  come  to  look 
more  closely  into  them,  you  can  see  that  they  are  of  two 
kinds,  the  larger  and  lower  ones  consisting  of  little 
pointed  nuts,  all  crowded  together  in  a  dense  globe  ;  the 
smaller  and  upper  ones  composed  of  clustered  stamens, 
irregularly  interspersed  with  a  few  casual  green  scales* 
Nothing  can  well  be  prettier  than  the  various  stages  of 
the  female  or  nut-bearing  heads,  from  the  time  when 
they  first  appear  as  close  bundles  of  pearly  knobs  till  the 
time  when  they  finally  assume  the  ripe  shape  of  prickly 
defensive  capsules.  Each  tiny  flower  in  these  heads  still 
retains  a  slight  rudiment  of  its  lost  petals  in  the  shape  of 
three  or  six  little  scales  surrounding  its  ovary  ;  but  in 
the  male  flowers,  the  scales  disappear  almost  entirely,  or 
survive  only  as  irregular  or  obsolescent  organs  scattered 
up  and  down  among  the  stamens  of  the  densely  packed 
head.     The  more  thickly  the  blossoms  are  clustered,  the 


lilHMi 


174 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


more  are  the  now  useless  relics  of  the  petals  crowded  out 
between  their  really  serviceable  organs. 

And  now  if  we  tnrn  to  the  cat's-tails  or  reed-maces 
that  grow  hard  by  out  of  the  water  itself,  we  can  see  the 
same  process  carried  to  the  furthest  possible  extreme  of 
degradation.  I  suppose  everybody  knows  them  by  some 
name  or  other,  as  black-cap  rushes  or  something  of  the 
sort — those  great  smooth  round  stems,  four  or  live  feet 
high,  surmounted  by  a  thick  woolly- looking  black  cylin- 
der by  way  of  a  head.  In  reality,  this  cylinder  is  an 
immense  mass  of  such  wind-fertilized  flowers,  crowded 
together  literally  by  myriads  along  a  dense  spike  on  the 
stem.  The  top  part,  which  grows  fluffy  and  withers 
after  a  short  time,  consists  of  the  male  blossoms,  here 
reduced  to  naked  stamens  only,  with  a  few  inconspicu- 
ous hairs  scattered  among  them  to  represent  the  scales 
that  once  were  petals.  The  lower  part,  which  becomes 
thicker  and  longer  as  the  autumn  wears  away,  consists  of 
the  female  flowers,  reduced  to  very  minute  ovaries,  each 
surrounded  by  a  bundle  of  small  hairs,  which  similarly 
stand  for  the  three  or  six  green  scales  of  the  female  bur- 
reed.  Each  ovary  is  now  so  extremely  small  that  you 
cannot  distinguish  them  separately  at  all  with  the  naked 
eye  ;  if  you  cut  the  spike  across,  the  only  thing  you  can 
see  is  a  thick  mass  of  soft  brownish  hairs,  black  at  the 
tips  and  paler  inside  toward  the  central  stalk. 

How  many  hundreds  of  thousands  of  flowers  are  thus 
cribbed  and  cabined  on  a  single  stem  nobody  has  ever 
had  the  patience  to  count ;  a  mere  pinch  pulled  out 
between  the  finger  and  thumb  displays  under  the  micro- 
scope an  apparently  infir.  i«e  number  of  distinct  florets, 
each  with  a  single  tiny  ovary  and  a  fluffy  envelope  of 
small  hairs.  Yet  all  this  degradation,  as  we  rightly  ac- 
count it,  is  strictly  in  adaptation  to  the  peculiar  habits  of 


WATERSIDE   WEEDS. 


175 


the  reed-mace.  It  grows  by  the  edge  of  shallow  waters 
only  ;  and  tiince  these  are  very  liable  to  dry  up  or  shift 
their  place  from  time  to  time,  it  requires  great  numbers 
of  easily  dispersed  seeds,  so  as  to  take  advantage  of  every 
new  habitat  which  petty  topographical  changes  may 
put  at  its  disposal.  Hence  wind  fertilization  and  winged 
fruits  exactly  suit  its  special  needs  ;  and  in  adaptation 
to  those  needs  it  has  become,  perhaps,  the  most  degraded 
type  of  flowering  plant  now  in  existence,  save  only  the 
little  floating  stalkless  duck-weed  which  forms  a  green 
film  on  the  surface  of  the  half -stagnant  water  at  its  base. 


i 


III 


|';i^ 

If' 

i 

i 

III!         1 

I'fli       ^i 

*i  ' 

. 

■     i;.    i 

fiSH,.       jj' 

mi^ 

XXXI. 


ASPARAGUS   BERKIE9. 


Most  English  lilies  flower  in  spring  or  very  early  sum- 
mer ;  but  asparagus  is  an  exception  to  the  general  rule, 
for  it  does  not  come  into  full  blossom  before  the  middle 
of  July,  and  1  see  the  big  green  berries  are  now  only 
just  beginning  to  redden  on  the  sunny  side  ui»der  two 
weeks  of  the  cloudless  skies  of  August.  The  world  at 
large  hardly  knows  asparagus  at  all,  except  as  a  succulent 
spring  vegetable  ;  and  that  one-sided  point  of  view 
doubtless  makes  it  rather  difficult  for  most  people  to  rec- 
ognize in  it  any  traces  whatever  of  the  lily  family. 
Yet  a  genuine  lily  it  really  is  for  all  that ;  and  if  you 
look  attentively  at  these  graceful  feathery  sprays  of  clus- 
tered foliage  (they  make  capital  decorations  in  a  speci- 
men vase  with  summer  blossoms),  or  at  these  little 
drooping  yellowish-green  bell-flowers  that  hang  pensile 
here  and  there  along  the  branches,  you  will  see  that  the 
lily  type  is  present  in  all  essentials,  and  that  only  the 
prepossessions  of  the  epicure  element  could  ever  have 
prevented  one  from  recognizing  its  true  affinities  at  the 
first  glance.  The  blossoms,  in  fact,  hang  down  not  im- 
like  Solomon's  seal,  only  that  they  are  composed  of  sepa- 
rate greenish  petals,  instead  of  having  a  single  tubular 
corolla  ;  and  they  are  pretty  enough  in  their  own  unob- 
trusive way,  though  not  nearly  so  striking  as  the  beauti- 
ful bright  red  berries  which  succeed  them  a  little  later 
on  in  autumn.  Asparagus  is  a  wild  plant  of  the  Brih'sh 
south  coast  by  origin  ;  and  though  it  is  now  becoming 


ASPARAGUS   MERniES. 


177 


rather  rare  on  our  own  sliores,  I  liave  still  picKca  a  few 
sprigs  of  late  years  on  the  rocky  islets  at  Kynance  Cove  in 
Cornwall,  and  at  some  other  isolated  places  along  the 
English  seaboard  from  Devonshire  to  Wales.  Its  life- 
liistory  is  a  curious  and  an  interesllng  one,  for  it  forms  a 
rare  example  in  our  own  country  of  a  green  leafless 
plant,  with  branches  closely  simulating  foliage  both  in 
appearance  and  function. 

The  primitive  wild  asparagus  is  a  wiry  herb  with  a 
matted  perennial  rootstock,  in  which  it  stores  up  food- 
stuffs during  each  summer  for  the  supply  of  its  succulent 
green  shoots  in  thr  succeeding  spring.  Under  tillage 
we  have  made  it  increase  from  its  primitive  stature  of 
two  feet  or  less  to  an  average  height  of  four  or  five  ;  and 
at  the  same  time  its  spring  shoots,  which  are  slender  and 
rather  stringy  in  its  native  sands,  have  grown  much 
stouter  and  softer  under  stress  of  continuous  selection 
directed  to  this  single  end  alone.  But  in  order  to  make 
it  send  up  vigorous  grass  (as  gardeners  call  it)  at  the  re- 
turn of  spring,  we  are  obliged  to  let  it  grow  tall  and 
bushy  during  tlie  whole  smnmer,  so  as  to  elaborate 
plenty  of  rich  materials,  including  its  essential  flavoring 
principle  asparagine,  in  the  creeping  rootstock  from 
which  next  year's  sprouts  will  draw  their  whole  supply 
of  food.  That  is  wln%  though  we  finished  cutting  in 
June,  the  bushes  must  still  go  on  cumbering  the  earth 
till  they  die  down  naturally  on  the  approach  of  autumn. 
If  we  hacked  it  down  at  present  we  should  liave  no  aspar- 
agus to  speak  of  next  season. 

Now,  everybody  has  noticed  that  the  young  shoots 
which  form  the  eatable  part  of  asparagus  are  covered  by 
email  pointed  purplish  scales  ;  and  these  scales  are,  in 
fact,  almost  the  only  true  leaves  that  the  plant  ever  puts 
forth  in  its  present  condition.     But  as  it  grows  older  it 


!f' 


*^ 


'W 

m 


fw    k 


V    ■ 


M 


u. 


\ln 


It  % 


178 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


begins  to  branch  off  into  numerous  sprays  to  right  and 
left  ;  and  these  S2)rays  are  covered  with  chisters  of  feath- 
ery gi*een  spikes,  closely  resembling  foliage,  and  not  at 
all  unlike  the  needles  of  firs  and  some  other  conifers. 
In  reality,  however,  these  apparent  leaves  are  abortive 
flower-stalks  ;  while  the  only  true  leaves  on  the  branches 
are  some  very  small  and  almost  microscopical  scales 
around  the  point  where  the  needles  diverge  from  the  stem 
that  bears  them.  It  is  true  the  little  wiry  branches  do 
all  the  work  that  real  lea"'"i  ought  to  do  ;  they  are  quite 
green,  and  they  act  as  digesters  of  carbon  from  the  air 
for  the  plant ;  so  that  it  seems  at  first  sight  a  hard  say- 
ing to  be  told  that  they  are  at  bottom  only  flower-stalks. 
Yet  so  certain  is  that  curious  fact,  that  even  long  before 
evolution  was  dreamt  of,  all  technical  botanists  had  fully 
made  up  their  minds  that  the  apparent  leaves  of  aspara- 
gus and  its  allies  must  be  theoretically  described  as 
'^  abortive  pedicels.''  And  this  is  probably  the  way  that 
such  a  strange  freak  of  nature  first  came  about. 

Asparagus  is  a  simple  species  of  lily  which  has  taken 
(in  its  wild  state)  to  growing  in  very  dry  and  sandy  soils. 
Now,  the  lily  type  of  leaf,  as  we  all  know,  is  a  long  thin 
succulent  blade,  extremely  ill-adapted  for  dry  or  sandy 
places.  Hence  all  the  lilies  which  arc  driven  by  circum- 
stances to  take  up  their  abode  in  such  spots  have  been 
forced  to  get  rid  of  their  own  real  leaves,  and  to  develop 
some  other  distinct  organ  into  a  serviceable  foliar  substi- 
tute in  their  place.  If  they  did  not  do  so,  tliey  died  out 
entirely,  and  there  was  an  end  of  tliem  ;  only  those 
wliich  happened  to  accommodate  themselves  to  their  en- 
vironment in  this  particular  succeeded  in  finally  surviv- 
i  f?  ;  and  among  such  surviv\/rs  are  the  asparagus  bushes 
of  the  present  day. 

How  such  changes  began  to  take  place  svo  can  better 


*l* 


ASPARAGUS  BERRIES. 


179 


understand  if  we  look  for  a  moment  at  the  analogous 
case  of  the  butcher's  broom  which  grows  instead  of  box 
in  the  little  hedge  hero  hy  the  shrubbery.  Butcher's 
broom  is  another  aberrant  lily,  and  a  very  close  ally  of 
the  asparagus  tribe  ;  but  it  shows  us  the  same  peculiari- 
ties in  a  rather  less  marked  and  advanced  degree.  1 
suppose  everybody  knows  its  stiff  prickly  leaves,  with  a 
small  white  six-petalled  flower  apparently  growing  out 
of  the  very  centre  of  each  leaf.  In  this  case  it  is  easier 
to  realize  that  the  sc  riming  leaves  are  really  altered 
branches— first  because  we  can  actually  see  the  flowers 
still  budding  out  of  their  midst ;  and,  secondly,  because 
if  we  look  close  we  can  observe  a  minute  scale,  which  is 
the  rudiment  of  a  true  leaf,  springing  from  their  midrib 
just  below  the  point  where  the  flowers  are  given  oil. 
Careful  examination,  in  fact,  shows  us  that  the  branch 
has  become  flatten  3d  and  leaf -like,  but  that  it  still  retains 
all  the  essential  characters  of  a  branch  ;  because  it  bears 
flowers  and  true  leaves,  whereas,  of  course,  nobody  ever 
saw  one  true  leaf  growing  right  out  of  the  back  of 
another.  It  is  worthy  of  notice,  too,  that,  in  order  to 
protect  the  flowers  from  injury,  each  seeming  leaf  twists 
at  the  stalk,  and  so  turns  its  upper  surface  downward  to 
the  ground.  In  time  the  female  flowers  grow  into  brill- 
iant scarlet  berries,  which  look  as  if  they  were  gummed 
on  to  the  lower  side  of  the  leaves  ;  and  these  berries  con- 
tain a  couple  of  little  hard-shelled  nutlets,  which  are  dis- 
persed by  the  assistance  of  birds,  as  in  most  other  similar 
cases. 

Now,  in  butcher's  broom,  almost  all  these  leaf-like 
branches  still  bear  flowers  and  berries  on  the  mid-rib  of 
their  expanded  surface  ;  but  there  are  a  good  many 
barren  branches  on  each  bush,  which  act  as  leaves  pure 
and  simple  ;  while  a  few  scales  beneath  each  such  branch 


'» 


coLiK  clout's  calendar. 


represent  the  original  flat  blades  of  the  primitive  lily 
ancestor.  In  asparagus,  the  same  process  has  been  car- 
ried  just  one  step  further.  The  young  spring  shoots 
here  bear  flat  mauve  scales,  not  unlike  in  shape  to  an 
,  abortive  grass- blade  ;  but  on  the  upper  branches  these 
scales  become  very  small  and  inconspicuous  indeed,  while 
from  their  angles  there  project  a  number  of  long  needle- 
like  green  points,  which  form  the  practical  working 
foliage  of  the  plant  at  the  present  day.  Every  here  and 
there,  three  or  four  of  them  bear  a  little  drooping  green- 
ish lily -flower  each  at  their  summit,  especially  near  the 
lower  end  of  each  branchlet ;  but  by  far  the  greater 
number  spring  in  little  clusters  of  four  or  five  together 
from  the  axil  of  a  scaly  leaf,  without  any  flowers  at  all  at 
their  pointed  ends.  They  are,  in  fact,  abortive  flower- 
stalks,  like  the  barren  branches  on  the  butcher's  broom  ; 
only  in  this  case  the  vast  majority  of  flower-stalks  are 
thus  abortive,  and  only  a  very  small  number  devote 
themselves  to  their  proper  function  of  producing  blos- 
soms. 

It  must  not  be  imagined,  however,  that  the  asparagus 
once  passed  through  the  butcher's  broom  stage  ;  the  re- 
semblance between  the  two  plants  is  rather  analogical 
than  strictly  genetic.  Both,  doubtless,  are  ultimately  de- 
scended from  simple  typical  lily  ancestors,  which  had  suf- 
fered dwarfing  of  tlie  true  leaves  through  their  enforced 
restriction  to  dry  habitats  ;  and  with  both  only  those 
individuals  have  finally  survived  which  happened  to 
diverge  in  directions  adapted  to  their  new  mode  of  life. 
The  butcher's  broom  has  made  its  way  by  developing 
stiff,  prickly,  and  expanded  branches,  whose  broad 
green  wings  do  duty  instead  of  loaves  ;  the  asparagus 
has  attained  the  same  end  by  producing  vast  numbers  of 
small  thread-like  flower^stalks,  only  a. small  proportion 


ASPARAGUS   BERRIES. 


181 


of  which  ever  actually  bear  perfect  flowers.  But  so  far 
as  its  blossom  is  concenied,  the  asparagus  stands  ntar  r 
to  the  prime  ancestor  than  does  the  butcher's  broom  ;  tor 
it  still  possesses  three  distinct  caljx-pieces  and  three 
petals  ;  whereas  in  its  ally  all  six  parts  have  long  since 
grown  quite  indistinguishable  ;  and  in  the  minor  details 
of  the  stamens  and  pistil  the  asparagus  also  retains  more 
markedly  than  its  ally  the  common  ancestral  traits. 
Hence  we  cannot  ay  that  one  form  has  been  actually 
derived  from  the  other ;  both  are  rather  divergent  de- 
scendants of  a  single  central  ancestor,  whose  neculiarities 
each  has  modified  in  a  different  direction. 


ff 


XXXIIL 


THE  KEENING  O^  THE  WHEAT. 


*M4 


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'll 


ill 


W     1  i 


i  I 


A  NARROW  single-file  pathway  leads  obliquely  va  a 
short  cut  across  the  lower  corn-field  to  the  bridge,  and 
on  either  hand  the  mellowing  corn  rises  sharply  beside 
it  like  a  wall,  with  Us  tall  shocks  now  just  turning  from 
pale  green  to  golden  brown  before  the  ripening  sun  and 
the  warping  wind.  As  I  pass  through  it  I  cannot  avoid 
trampling  down  a  haulm  or  two  of  the  overhanging  straw 
here  and  there,  so  closely  does  the  crop  encroach  upon  the 
track  that  threads  among  it.  There  are  bright  yellow 
corn-marigolds  scattered  in  between  the  heads,  and  great 
scarlet  poppies  by  the  edge,  and  dark  bluebottles  further 
afield,  and  lilac  scabiouses  overtopping  even  the  tallest 
beards.  Beneath,  too,  there  is  an  interloping  mat  of 
smaller  weeds :  lithe  climbing  buckwheat  or  black 
bindweed,  with  its  barbed  and  heart-shaped  leaves  ex- 
actly mimicking  the  lesser  convolvulus,  whose  fimnel- 
like  blossoms  open  by  its  side  ;  stiff  wiry  knot-grass 
forming  here  and  there  a  ragged  undersward  ;  creeping 
toadflax  pressing  tight  to  the  ground  its  broad  leaves 
and  snap-dragon  flowers  ;  red  bartsia  sucking  out  the 
life-blood  of  the  corn  with  its  parasitic  rootlets  and  cling* 
ing  suckers.  For  even  the  most  carefully  tended 
wheat-fields  are  always  more  or  less  thickly  choked  with 
those  innumerable  weeds  of  cultivation  which  no  tillage 
can  ever  eradicate  ;  hardy  Asiatic  straylings  whose  seeds 
have  followed  the  grains  and  pulses  over  Europe  and 
America,  and  who^e  constitution  successfully  defies  every 


THE   KERNING   OF  THE   WHEAT. 


183 


attempt  to  kill  them  down  b^^  fair  means  or  foul.  The 
more  you  uproot  them  or  burn  them  or  sift  their  seeds, 
the  more  pertinacious  are  tliose  which  still  survive  ;  for 
by  picking  out  the  more  conspicuons  you  only  lea'e  tiie 
more  insidious  to  spread  and  multiply  ;  and  by  cutting 
off  the  roots  from  the  sicklier  you  only  leave  the  stronger 
to  send  up  fresh  suckers  and  runners  from  their  wounded 
stocks.  Yet,  in  spite  of  hard  competition,  and  all  this 
wealth  of  intenningled  weed,  the  com  now  looks  far 
better  than  one  could  reasonably  have  hoped  a  week  or 
two  ago  ;  and  the  shjcks  have  tilled  out  bravely  for  the 
most  part  under  the  late  fine  weather  ;  though  there  are 
really  many  empty  spikelets,  I  fear,  on  most  of  the  heads 
— mere  barren  chaff,  with  no  grain  inside  it.  Even  in 
the  field  we  have  already  cut  there  will  be  no  certainty 
as  to  the  actual  yield  until  we  begin  the  regular  autumn 
threshing. 

The  sample  spikes  that  I  have  picked  from  beside  the 
path  and  roughly  husked  by  rolling  them  between  my 
palms  seem  to  promise  a  fairly  large  harvest  in  this 
particular  patch  of  corn-land.  The  grains  are  large  and 
full,  and  the  number  of  fertile  spikelets  on  each  head  is 
pretty  well  up  to  the  average.  Few  things  are  sweeter 
than  fresh  wheat,  chewed  till  it  is  reduced  to  the  condi- 
tion of  gluten  ;  and  1  suppose  it  must  have  been  some 
such  chance  trial  on  the  part  of  some  early  savage  that 
first  suggested  the  notion  of  cultivating  the  wild  goat- 
grass  which  became  the  ancestor  of  all  our  modern  wheat. 
A  hungry  hunter,  no  doubt,  coming  home  unsuccessfully 
from  stalking  the  antelopes  with  his  flint-tipped  arrows, 
rubbed  betw^een  his  dusky  hands  some  of  the  grasses  that 
grew  on  the  open  plain  around  him,  and  extracted  from 
their  chaffy  scales  a  few  insignificant  but  sweet  little 
seeds.     The  original   parents  of  all   our   cereals  were 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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184 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


B 


grassGF  of  one  kind  or  other,  often  belonging  to  remotely 
differci.i,  groups,  but  almost  all  indigenous  inhabitants  of 
the  Central  Asian  and  Mediterranean  regions.  The  mil- 
Jets  of  India  have  been  developed  from  wild  species 
closely  resembling  certain  rare  English  grasses  found 
only  in  the  southern  counties  ;  the  wild  baileys  grow 
abundantly  in  many  parts  of  Britain  ;  and  the  wild  oat, 
which  flourishes  in  every  district  of  England,  is  certainly 
the  ancestor  of  our  cultivated  oats.  But  the  pedigree 
of  wheat,  the  most  important  of  all  our  cereals,  is  a  little 
more  obscure  ;  it  has  varied  to  a  greater  degree  from  its 
humble  original  than  any  other  known  artificial  plant. 
Fortunately,  we  are  still  able  to  recover  the  steps  by 
which  it  has  been  developed  from  what  might  at  first 
sight  appear  to  be  a  very  unlikely  and  ill-endowed  ances- 
tor indeed. 

The  English  couch-grass,  which  often  proves  such  a 
troublesome  weed  in  our  own  country,  is  represented 
around  the  Mediterranean  shores  by  an  allied  genus  of 
annual  plants  known  as  goat-grass ;  and  one  of  these 
weedy  goat-grasses  has  now  been  shown  with  great  prob- 
ability to  be  the  wild  form  of  our  cultivated  wheat. 
It  is  a  small  dwarfish  grass,  with  very  petty  seeds,  and 
not  nearly  so  full  a  spike  as  the  cereals  of  agriculture  ; 
but  it  was  long  ago  remarked  as  closely  allied  to  true 
wheat,  in  all  essential  structural  points  ;  and  by  constant 
tillage  and  selection  it  has  again  been  made  of  late  years 
to  develop  rapidly  into  a  form  not  unlike  that  of  the 
poorest  and  earliest  cultivated  wheats.  Of  course,  it 
cannot  be  expected  that  experiments,  however  skilful, 
spread  over  a  few  years  only,  would  succeed  in  produc- 
ing from  the  wild  stock  grains  equal  to  those  which  have 
been  produced  by  countless  generations  of  unconscious  or 
Bemi-conscious  selection  on  the  part  of  primeval  tillers. 


THE  KBRNINQ  OF  THE  WHEAT, 


185 


Still,  enough  has  been  done  to  show  that  even  a  short 
course  of  carefully  directed  tillage  will  transform  the 
Mediterranean  goat-grass  into  a  fair  imitation  of  the 
wheat  grown  by  our  earliest  agricultural  ancestors. 

How  soon  in  the  history  of  man  the  goat-grass  began 
to  be  deliberately  sown  in  little  plots  of  ground  around 
the  huts  of  evohnng  savages  we  can  now  hardly  guess  ; 
certainly  there  remain  no  existing  traces  of  its  use  by  the 
very  first  race  which  inhabited  Europe — the  palaeolithic 
hunters  who  chased  the  mammoth  and  the  woolly  rhinoc- 
eros among  the  jungles  of  Abbeville  or  by  the  glacier- 
bound  terraces  of  the  Thames  Valley.  But  when  man 
first  reappears  in  northern  Europe,  after  the  great  ice- 
sheets  once  more  cleared  away  from  the  face  of  the  land, 
we  find  him  growing  and  using  a  rude  form  of  wheat 
from  the  earliest  moment  of  his  re-establishinent  in  the 
desolated  plains.  Among  the  pile-villages  of  the  Swiss 
lakes,  which  were  inhabited  by  men  of  the  newer  stone 
age,  we  find  side  by  side  with  the  polished  flint  axes  and 
the  hand-made  pottery  of  the  period  several  cereals  raised 
by  the  lake-dwellers  on  the  neighboring  mainland. 
The  charred  seeds  and  water-logged  shocks  disinterred 
from  the  ruins  of  the  villages  include  millet,  barley,  and 
several  other  grains  ;  but  by  far  the  commonest  among 
them  is  a  peculiar  small  form  of  wheat,  which  has  been 
named  scientifically  after  the  ancient  folk  by  whom  it  was 
used. 

This  lake-wheat,  however,  though  it  dates  back  to  the 
very  beginning  of  the  recent  period  in  Europe,  cannot 
be  considered  as  the  first  variety  developed  from  the 
primitive  goat-grass  by  the  earliest  cultivators  ;  it  is  so 
superior  in  character  to  the  wild  stock  that  it  must 
already  have  undergone  a  long  course  of  tillage  and  selec- 
tion in  more  genial    climates,  and    must   have  been 


186 


COLIN  CLOUT*S  CALENDAR. 


bronglit  baek  to  Europe  in  a  comparatively  perfect  con- 
dition by  the  short  dark  people  who  settled  our  continent 
immediately  after  the  termination  of  the  glacial  era. 
"While  the  ice-sheet  still  spread  over  the  face  of  England, 
as  it  now  spreads  over  the  face  of  Greenland,  the  ances- 
tors of  the  neolithic  people  must  have  been  slowly  im- 
proving the  breed  of  wheat  somewhere  among  the  re- 
cesses of  the  central  Asian  plateau  ;  and  by  the  time  the 
northern  peninsulas  and  islands  became  once  more  habit- 
able, they  must  have  returned  to  the  vacant  lands,  bring- 
ing with  them  the  seeds  of  their  goat-grass^  now  ad- 
vanced to  the  condition  of  the  small  lake- wheat.  This 
gulf  has  again  been  nearly  bridged  over  for  us  by  the 
direct  experiments  conducted  of  late  years  in  France  and 
at  Cirencester. 

From  the  neolithic  time  forward,  the  improved  seed 
has  continued  to  grow  bigger  and  bigger,  both  in  the  size 
of  the  shocks  and  in  the  girth  of  the  individual  grains, 
until  the  present  day.  The  original  small  lake- wheat, 
indeed,  lingered  on  in  use  in  Switzerland  and  the  north 
down  to  the  days  of  the  Eoinan  conquest ;  but  mean- 
while, in  Egypt  and  the  south,  still  better  varieties  were 
being  gradually  developed  by  careful  selection  ;  and  we 
find  both  kinds  side  by  side  in  some  few  instances  ;  thus 
showing  that  both  were  grown  together  at  the  same  time 
by  races  in  different  stages  of  civilization.  With  the  in- 
troduction of  these  better  kinds  by  the  Greek  and  Boman 
colonists  into  Gaul  and  Britain,  the  old  lake-wheat  be- 
came quite  extinct.  Indeed,  in  every  case  the  cultivated 
seeds  and  fruits  which  grew  in  neolithic  garden  plots 
were  much  smaller  than  those  of  our  own  time  ;  whereas 
the  wild  seeds  and  wild  fruits  found  under  the  same  cir- 
cumstances are  just  as  large  as  their  congeners  of  the 
present  day.     In  other  words,  while  circumstances  have 


THE  KERXINO  OP  THE  WHEAT. 


187 


not  since  compelled  any  increase  of  size  in  the  wild 
plants,  constant  selection  has  produced  a  great  increase 
m  the  cultivated  varieties.     It  must  not,  however,  be 
inferred  that  no  changes  whatever  have  since  come  over 
the  T^ld  kinds  in  any  respect ;  as  in  all  other  cases, 
there  has  been  change  and  modification  in  minor  matters 
proportionate  to  the  lapse  of  time  which  has  since  inter- 
vened.     But  a  lapse  which  makes  rektively  little  differ- 
ence to  the  stable  wild  weeds  makes  relatively  great 
differences  in  the  very  plastic  and  carefully  selected  cul- 
tivated  plants. 


XXXIII. 


r^ 


THE  ORIGIN   OP   GROUSE. 

A  HAMPER  of  gronse  from  a  friend  in  Scotland  lias  a 
double  interest,  biological  and  culinary.  I  shall  hand 
over  the  four  even  brace  to  the  cook  for  further  opera- 
tions ;  and  I  shall  dissect  the  odd  bird  as  an  oimithologi- 
cal  study.  The  common  red  grouse  of  the  Scotch  moors 
indeed  may  be  considered  in  one  particular  as  the  most 
interesting  living  group  of  British  birds.  They  form  at 
present  the  only  species  of  higher  vertebrates  entirely 
peculiar  to  these  islands.  We  have,  it  is  true,  several 
local  species  of  British  trout,  found  only  in  certain  small 
pools  or  mountain  tarns  of  Wales,  Scotland,  or  Ireland  ; 
but  beside  the  red  grouse  we  have  no  indigenous  bird, 
mammal,  reptile,  or  amphibian  wholly  peculiar  to  our 
own  country.  This  fact  gives  a  very  singular  interest  to 
Ihe  grouse,  and  naturally  suggests  iJie  question,  whence 
did  it  come  to  us  ? 

As  a  whole,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  mass  of 
our  existing  British  fauna  and  flora  is  Korth  European, 
and  that  it  reached  our  shores  in  the  interval  between  the 
last  glacial  period  and  the  final  insulation  of  Great  Brit- 
ain and  Ireland.  It  is  now  universtlly  acknowledged  by 
biologists  and  geologists  that  after  the  great  ice-sheet 
finally  cleared  off  the  face  of  England,  our  islands 
formed  for  some  considerable  time  an  outlying  penin- 
sula of  the  European  continent,  like  Spain  or  Scandina- 
via at  the  present  day ;  and  over  the  broad  bridge  of 
land  which  then  occupied  the  bed  of  the  German  Ocean 


4 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  OnOUdfe^ 


160 


and  the  Irish  Sea,  the  plants  and  animals  of  temperate 
Europe  spread  by  slow  degrees  across  the  unoccupied 
plains  and  valleys  of  the  British  Isles.  Their  onward 
course  over  the  land  denuded  by  the  ice-sheet  was  un- 
doubtedly very  tardy,  for  many  species  never  succeeded 
in  reaching  England  at  all ;  while  others,  which  got  as 
far  as  our  own  island,  did  not  travel  as  much  to  the  west 
as  Ireland  before  the  submergence  of  St.  George^  s 
Channel  made  that  part  of  Britain  into  a  separate  island. 
It  is,  perhaps,  to  this  accident  of  position,  rather  than  to 
the  exterminating  efforts  of  St.  Patrick,  that  Ireland 
owes  its  famous  freedom  from  the  presence  of  many 
terrestrial  reptiles  and  amphibians.  A  little  later,  before 
the  advanced  guard  of  the  European  mammalia  had  fully 
occupied  our  eastern  coasts,  the  North  Sea  and  the 
Straits  of  Dover  were  invaded  by  arms  of  the  Atlantic, 
and  Great  Britain  finally  assumed  its  insular  shape. 
Thus  our  existing  fauna  and  flora  really  represent  a 
mere  fraction  of  the  Central  European  species — the  few 
pioneer  kinds  that  had  travelled  so  far  on  their  way  into 
the  bare  waste  before  the  sea  cut  us  off  from  the  remain- 
der of  the  European  world.  We  are  comparatively  rich 
in  insects,  birds,  bats,  and  plants,  whose  wings,  eggs,  or 
seeds  give  them  special  opportunities  of  transport  across 
the  sea  ;  but  we  are  very  poor  indeed  in  terrestrial  mam- 
mals and  land-amphibians,  which  cannot  readily  be 
transported  across  wide  stretches  of  intervening  water. 

Mr.  Wallace  has  noticed  that  in  all  such  insulated 
lands  there  is  a  great  tendency  for  species  to  vary,  partly 
through  the  special  sets  of  circumstances  to  which  they 
are  thus  exposed,  and  partly  tlirough  the  rarity  of  crosses 
with  the  original  stock,  which  doubtless  continues  to  de- 
velop and  alter  on  its  own  part  in  another  direction, 
under  pressure  of  other  influences  to  which  it  is  exposed 


i^'l 


i 


190 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


in  the  wider  continents  where  it  dwells.  In  Britain, 
thongh  so  recently  separated  from  the  mainland,  as  Mr. 
Wallace  points  out,  this  tendency  has  already  produced  a 
few  very  marked  effects.  An  immense  number  of  our 
hative  plants  appear  in  slightly  different  varieties  from 
those  of  the  mainland  ;  and  in  our  outlying  islands,  such 
as  Man,  Wight,  Lundy,  Arran,  and  the  Hebrides,  such 
variation  is  exceptionally  common.  Among  insects  we 
have  several  British  species  ;  among  fish  we  have  six  or 
seven  kinds  of  trout ;  and  among  birds  we  have  the 
grouse,  which  is  quite  unknown  in  any  other  part  of  the 
world.  Its  nearest  Continental  representative  is  the 
willow-grouse  of  Scandinavia,  which  ranges  all  round  the 
northern  hemispliere  even  up  to  the  Pole.  But  the  willow- 
grouse  changes  its  coat  to  white  in  winter,  like  the  ptar- 
migan, whereas  the  Scotch  red  grouse  keeps  its  summer 
dress  the  whole  year  round  :  and  many  minor  points  of 
difference  have  caused  our  own  bird  to  be  universally 
ranked  by  naturalists  as  a  good  species.  Ought  we  really 
to  regard  it  as  the  primitive  type  from  which  the  Conti- 
nental bird  is  derived,  or  ought  we  rather  to  consider  it 
as  a  special  insular  descendant  of  the  ^villow-grouse,  or 
ought  we  finally  to  look  upon  both  as  divergent  lateral 
branches  from  a  single  original  common  stock  ?  Prob- 
ably the  last,  and  for  these  reasons. 

The  bird  which  came  northward  at  the  close  of  the 
glacial  period,  to  inhabit  the  now  thawed  plains  of  north- 
em  Europe,  much  as  the  American  partridge  might  take 
possession  of  Greenland  if  all  its  glaciers  were  to  clear 
away  in  a  more  genial  era,  was  doubtless  a  more  or  less 
southern  and  temperate  type  of  grouse-kind.  Coming 
into  Britain,  it  would  soon  be  entirely  isolated  from  all 
its  allies  elsewhere  ;  for  it  is  of  course  a  poor  flyer  for 
distance,  and  it  inhabits  only  the  northerly  or  westerly 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  GROUSE. 


191 


parts  of  our  island  which  lie  furthest  from  the  Conti- 
nent, separated  from  Holland  and  Scandinavia  by  a 
wide  sea.  Here  it  could  not  fail  to  be  subjected  to 
special  conditions,  differing  greatly  from  those  of  the 
European  mainland,  partly  in  the  equable  insular  cli- 
mate, partly  in  the  nature  of  the  vegetation,  and  partly 
in  the  absence  of  many  mammalian  foes  or  competitors. 
These  conditions  would  bo  likely  first  to  affect  the  color- 
ing and  marking  of  the  feathers,  the  spots  on  the  bill, 
the  naked  scarlet  patch  about  the  eye,  and  so  forth  ;  for 
we  know  that  even  freer-flying  birds  in  the  south,  which 
cross  often  with  Continental  varieties,  tend  slightly  to 
vary  in  such  ornamental  points  ;  and  a  very  isolated 
group  like  the  red  grouse  would  be  far  more  likely  to 
vary  in  similar  directions.  Meanwhile,  the  main  branch 
of  the  family,  separated  on  the  great  continents  from 
this  slightly  divergent  group,  would  probably  acquire 
the  habit  of  changing  its  plumage  in  winter  among  the 
snows  of  the  north,  by  stress  of  natural  selection,  just  as 
the  Arctic  fox  and  so  many  other  northern  animals  have 
done  ;  for  in  a  uniform  white  surface  any  variation  of 
color  is  far  more  certain  to  be  spotted  and  cut  off  than 
in  a  many-colored  and  diversified  environment.  Thus  it 
would  seem  probable  that  the  Scotch  grouse  has  slowly 
become  accommodated  to  the  heather,  among  which  it  is 
so  liard  to  discover  it ;  while  the  willow-grouse  has 
grown  to  resemble  the  snow  in  winter,  and  the  barer 
grounds  of  its  northern  feeding-places  in  the  short  Scan- 
dinavian and  Icelandic  summer. 

If  this  be  so,  we  must  regard  both  birds  as  slightly 
divergent  descendants  of  a  common  ancestor,  from 
"which,  however,  our  grouse  has  varied  less  than  its  Con- 
tinental congener.  Of  course,  it  is  just  possible  that  the 
cammta  mcMdr  had  ak^eady  ab^uinod  ikQ  habit  of 


;» 

4' 


♦•v 


192 


COLIN  CLOUT'S  CALENDAR. 


il 


)?■(! 


changing  its  coat  in  winter  before  the  divergence  took 
place  ;  and  if  so,  then  it  is  the  Scotch  grouse  which  has 
altered  most ;  but  this  is  less  probable,  because  the  use- 
fulness of  the  change  would  certainly  be  ft?lt  even  in  a 
Scotch  winter,  and  the  white  suit  is  not,  therefore,  likely 
ever  to  have  been  lost  when  once  acquired.  Though  the 
winter  is  not  severe  enough  in  Scotland  to  make  such  a 
change  of  coat  inevitable  where  it  does  not  already  exist, 
it  is  yet  quite  severe  enough  to  preserve  the  habit  in  ani- 
mals which  have  once  acquired  it,  as  we  see  in  the  case 
of  the  varying  hare,  a  creature  which  in  colder  ages 
spread  over  the  whole  of  northern  Europe,  and  which 
still  holds  its  own  among  the  chillier  portions  of  the 
Scotch  Highlands.  Hence  we  may  reasonably  infer  that 
if  our  grouse  had  ever  possessed  a  winter  coat  it  would 
have  always  retained  it  for  an  alternative  dress,  as  the 
ptarmigan  still  does  in  the  self -same  latitudes.  Accord- 
ingly, analogy  seeing  to  point  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
Scotch  grouse  is  a  truly  native  brfeed,  slightly  altered  by 
the  conditions  of  its  insular  habitat  from  a  closely  allied 
Continental  species,  whose  representativt  elsewhere 
have  now  all  assumed  the  guise  of  Scandinavian  willow- 
grouse.  In  other  words,  the  two  isolated  groups  into 
which  the  species  has  split  up  have  altered  each  in  its 
own  way,  but  the  Continental  variety  has  moved  faster 
away  from  the  primitive  type  than  its  British  congeners. 


I  "  •! 


XXXIV. 


PLIJM8   RIPEN. 


The  blue  plums  in  the  garden  have  now  acquired  their 
ripe  purple  bloom,  and  their  cousins  the  sloes  on  the 
blackthorn  bushes  in  the  copse  are  fast  softening  to  such 
sour  pulpiness  as  their  wild  nature  ever  permits  them. 
In  outer  look  the  plum-tree  and  the  sloe-bush  do  not 
present  any  very  close  resemblance  ;  yet  the  one  is  really 
the  cultivated  offspring  of  the  other,  and  their  historj^  is 
consequently  the  same  throughout — at  least  until  we  ar- 
rive at  its  penultimate  chapter,  with  the  first  domestica- 
tion, so  to  speak,  of  the  eastern  sloes  by  man.  Plums 
and  sloes  are  roses  by  family,  descended  from  original 
creeping  ancestors  not  unlike  the  wild  strawberry  plant, 
only  without  its  peculiar  juicy  and  succulent  fruit.  A 
long  course  of  unrecorded  development  in  the  progeni- 
tors of  the  plum  kind  has  made  their  stems  grow  con- 
stantly woodier  and  woodier,  by  numerous  stages  which 
we  can  still  roughly  trace  through  every  gradation  of 
herb,  shrub,  bush,  and  tree  throughout  an  immense  col- 
lection of  diverse  congeners.  From  simple  little  weedy 
annuals,  which  die  down  entirely  every  winter,  and  are 
reproduced  next  year  by  seed  alone,  we  pass  on  upward 
through  perennials  with  slightly  woody  underground 
stocks,  sending  forth  fresh  flowering  stems  with  each  re- 
turning spring,  to  small  tough  under-shrubs  whose 
branches  alone  die  down  in  autumn,  and  finally  to  arbo- 
rescent bushes,  all  of  whose  stiffel*  boughs  become  perma- 
nently woody  from  the  very  first.     And  side  by  side 


194 


i<« 


COLIN  CLOUT  S  CALENDAR. 


■1  i' 


with  this  upward  evolution  from  the  green  weed  to  the 
solid  tree  we  can  trace  a  concomitant  evolution  from  the 
many-seeded  berry  like  the  raspberry  or  the  blackberry 
to  the  one-seeded  stone-fruit  like  the  sloe  and  the  plum. 
All  those  members  of  the  rose  family  which  have  reached 
this  highest  type  of  rose  development,  with  shrubby 
or  tree-like  stems  and  one-seeded  fruits,  form  together 
the  almond  sub-tribe  of  modem  botanists.  As  in  all 
other  cases,  their  succulent  f niit-coverings  are  due  to  the 
selective  agency  of  birds  and  forestine  animals,  which 
aid  them  in  dispersing  their  large,  hard,  indigestible 
seeds  ;  and  the  unusual  size  of  these  coverings  shows  at 
once  that  they  belong  as  a  class  to  sub-tropical  and  tropical 
regions,  being  adapted  to  large  and  active  animal  allies, 
as  our  English  wild  strawberries,  raspberries,  and  black- 
berries are  adapted  to  the  smaller  needs  of  northern 
birds. 

Even  among  the  plum  or  almond  sub-tribe  itself  there 
are  many  differences  of  size  and  color  in  the  fruit,  ac- 
cording to  the  special  localities  where  the  various  trees 
have  fixed  their  home.  Our  little  black  English  bird- 
cherry  is  a  northern  and  Arctic  variety  ;  it  flourishes  best 
in  Lapland  and  Scandinavia,  becomes  scarcer  and  scarcer 
as  we  move  down  into  Scotland  and  central  Europe,  dis- 
appears altogether  in  southern  England  and  Ireland,  and 
only  penetrates  into  the  south  European  and  south 
Asiatic  regions  along  the  snowy  chains  of  the  Cau- 
casus and  the  Himalayas.  The  fruit  is  eaten  chiefly 
by  the  larger  northern  game-birds ;  and  it  has  never 
been  found  worthy  of  systematic  cultivation.  Our 
common  sloe  has  a  more  southerly  range  and  a  bigger 
fruit ;  but  even  it  in  the  wild  state  is  very  sour  and 
little  relished  except  by  our  native  birds.  In  south- 
eastern Europe  and  Central  Asia,  however,  the  sloes 


I*  i 


PLUMS'  RIPEN. 


195 


and 
uth 
au- 
efly 
ver 
lOur 
;ger 
and 
th- 
oes 


grow  larger  and  some  what  sweeter ;  their  bushes  aro 
more  tree-like  and  not  so  thorny  as  with  ns  ;  and  the 
whole  plant  approaches  much  nearer  in  appearance  to 
the  cultivated  plum.  This  southern  variety,  often  dis- 
tinguished as  a  separate  species,  but  still  linked  to  the 
common  northern  blackthorn  by  infinitesimal  gradations 
of  intermediate  forms,  is  the  wild  stock  from  which  the 
earliest  garden-plums  were  originally  raised.  Still  more 
southern  in  type  is  the  ancestral  cherry,  which  extends 
in  a  doubtfully  wild  state  as  far  north  as  Britain,  though 
here  it  appears  rather  to  be  a  seedling  straggler  from 
orchards  than  a  truly  indigenous  tree.  The  apricot, 
which  belongs  in  all  essential  particulars  to  the  plum 
group,  comes  from  still  further  south,  being  a  denizen  of 
Armenia  by  origin,  developed  under  the  influence  of  the 
great  sub-tropical  fruit-eaters,  who  feed  upon  i*^  in  its 
native  woodlands.  Peaches  differ  from  plunis,  jt-^d  es- 
pecially from  the  transitional  apricot,  only  in  the  wrin- 
kled character  of  the  stone — a  protection  apparentl}'^ 
against  tlie  teeth  of  monkeys  or  large  rodents  ;  and  tliey 
belong  originally  to  Persia,  Afghanistan,  and  the  neigh- 
boring regions.  Their  fruit  represents  the  highest  level 
of  size  attained  by  the  plum  or  almond  group,  though 
they  fall  far  short  in  girth  and  brilliancy  of  th(^  great 
tropical  kinds  produced  in  the  regions  of  toucans,  horn- 
bills,  cockatoos,  parrots,  and  other  large,  bright-hued 
fruit-eaters.  Even  in  southern  countries,  however,  there 
are  many  small  species,  adapted  to  the  smaller  birds, 
such  as  the  common  laurel  and  the  Portuguese  laurel, 
both  of  which  are  i  me  plunp<<  with  evergreen  leaves  to 
suit  a  milder  winter  climate. 

Our  own  sloes  must  ioubtless  have  branched  off  from 
the  common  central  one-^^eeded  stone-fruit  group  about 
the  middle  of  the  tertiary  period.     They  are  very  closely 


196 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


i! 
ii 

ii' 

V. 


11   I! 

Ii  ! 


Ul! 


]ll\ 


allied  in  every  respect  to  the  cherries,  which  represent 
only  a  somewhat  more  southerly  variation  of  the  same 
ancestral  stock.  As  bushes  of  the  northern  thickets, 
however,  the  sloe-trees  have  either  acquired  or  retained 
the  habit  of  producing  short  abortive  pointed  branches 
along  the  stems,  which  act  as  defensive  thorns  to  prevent 
the  attacks  of  the  larger  animals.  They  blossom  very 
early  in  spring,  before  the  leaves  are  out,  for  they  have 
a  comparatively  large  fruit  to  perfect  before  autumn  in 
.the  precarious  sunshine  of  an  English  summer ;  and 
besides,  they  have  to  anticipate  the  more  attractive 
white-thorn,  which  almost  monopolizes  the  attentions  of 
the  fertilizing  bees  in  its  own  rather  later  flowering 
season.  The  material  for  the  blossoms  is  already  laid  by 
in  the  permanent  tissues  of  the  bush,  and  therefore  the 
blackthorn  can  flower  equally  well  at  any  time,  as  far  as 
resources  go.  But  those  bushes  which  flower  earliest 
must  always  have  best  succeeded  in  alluring  bees,  and 
have  fared  best  in  setting  their  fruits,  while  later  individ- 
uals could  not  compete  with  the  lush-scented  and 
thicker-blooming  may,  and  could  not  always  ripen  their 
seeds  before  the  advent  of  the  autumn  frosts.  Hence  the 
habit  of  early  blossoming  has  become  ingrained  in  the 
race  by  the  constant  survival  of  those  families  which  pos- 
sessed it,  and  the  constant  dying-out  of  those  families 
which  delayed  their  bloom  till  the  may  was  out. 

With  us,  the  sloes  are  small,  liard,  and  very  acrid  ; 
but  in  southern  Europe  and  central  Asia,  where  the  con- 
ditions are  more  favorable  for  the  production  of  large 
and  juicy  fruits,  they  become  longer,  sweeter,  pulpier, 
and  less  bitter ;  the  trees  grow  taller,  with  more  of  a 
distinct  trunk  ;  and,  as  a  natural  consequence,  they  tend 
rather  to  lose  the  thorns,  which  are  only  serviceable  to 
small  straggling  bushes,  liable  to  be  trodden  under  foot 


PLUM»  RIPEK. 


197 


jir 


)S- 


m- 
rge 
ler, 

a 
5nd 

to 
toot 


by  cattle,  deer,  or  antelopes.  It  is  this  southern  variety 
that  was  first  taken  in  hand  by  man  as  a  garden  fruit ; 
for  almost  all  our  common  cultivated  plants  come  to  us, 
with  the  rest  of  our  civilization,  from  the  central  Asian 
and  Mediterranean  region.  The  little  buUace  now  most 
nearly  resembles  the  wild  southern  stock,  and  it  has  been 
discovered  and  recognized  among  the  rubbish-heaps  of 
the  Swiss  Lake  villages  ;  so  that  its  cultivation  is  at  least 
as  old  as  the  later  stone  age,  and  probably  far  older,  for 
it  appears  even  then  as  a  distinctly  cultivated  and  im- 
proved variety.  Still,  these  very  ancient  bullaces  are 
considerably  smaller  than  the  smallest  garden  plums  of 
the  present  day,  as  is  always  the  case  with  fruits  and 
seeds  found  under  similar  circumstances. 

By  dint  of  long  selection  our  modern  plum-trees  have 
lost  their  thorns,  doubtless  because  the  thorny  specimens 
were  disagreeable  to  the  pickers,  so  that  any  stray  thorn- 
less  sport  would  be  sure  to  obtain  a  preference  and  be 
used  as  the  chosen  parent  of  future  varieties.  To  be 
sure,  the  gooseberry-bush  has  not  yet  lost  its  prickles  ; 
but  then  the  gooseberry  is  a  comparatively  recent  fruit  in 
cultivation,  hardly  dating  back  much  further  in  time 
than  some  ten  centuries,  whereas  the  plum  has  been 
grown  by  man  for  a  practically  immemorial  period. 
Under  stress  of  tillage,  the  original  buUace  has  been  once 
more  distributed  into  the  various  types  of  damsons, 
greengages,  Orleans  plums,  and  golden  drops,  which 
differ  from  one  another  in  their  fruit  far  more  than  the 
bullace  itself  differs  from  the  wild  sloe  of  southern 
Europe.  Indeed,  seeing  that  all  these  markedly  distinct 
varieties  have  been  demonstrably  produced  within  quite 
recent  times  from  a  single  common  ancestor,  it  is  not 
difficult  to  understand  how  that  ancestor  itself  may  have 
been  produced  at  a  still  earlier  age  from  the  central 


198 


COLIN   clout's  calendar. 


parent  stock  of  all  the  plums,  apricots,  and  cherries. 
What  nature  thus  did  before  by  her  slow  selection,  man 
has  merely  continued  to  do  more  rapidly  by  his  quicker 
and  exclusive  methods.  Only,  man  concentrates  his  at- 
tention on  one  single  point  alone — the  succulent  fruit ; 
nature  equally  favors  every  useful  variation  in  stem,  leaf, 
flower,  fruit,  or  seed  alike.  Hence  it  happens  that 
while  the  wild  cherry  differe  slightly  from  the  blackthorn 
in  almost  every  particular,  the  greengage  differs  from 
the  damson  almost  exclusively  in  the  fruit,  every  other 
part  remaining  essentially  identical.  If  cultivated  plums 
are  allowed  to  sow  themselves  and  run  wild  at  the  pres- 
ent day,  they  retain  their  tree-like  form,  but  revert 
rapidly  to  the  bullace  type.  If  long  permitted  to  con- 
tinue wild,  however,  they  show  a  tendency  at  last  to  go 
back  even  to  the  parent  south  European  blackthorn. 
Their  acquired  habits  are  not  yet  sufficiently  ingrained 
in  the  race  to  constitute  them  a  good  and  permanent 
species. 


xxxy. 


THE  PEAK   HARVEST. 


The  orchard  does  not  show  by  any  means  such  a 
pretty  sight  now  as  it  promised  to  do  in  the  early  prime 
of  a  splendid  flowering  season.  Then,  the  apple-trees 
were  draped  from  head  to  foot  in  a  mass  of  rich  pinky 
blossom,  and  the  bees  that  hovered  over  them  all  day 
lorg  seemed  to  presage  a  good  setting  of  the  fruit  against 
the  autumn  picking.  But  something  or  other  has  gone 
wrong  with  the  development  of  the  fruit ;  the  great 
cyclone  in  early  summer  caught  the  leaf -buds  in  the  very 
act  of  unfolding,  and  nipped  them  so  severely  that  the 
trees  now  hardly  show  any  foliage  at  all  on  *  their  naked 
straggling  branches.  Leaves,  of  course,  are  the  mouths 
by  which  the  plant  drinks  in  fresh  material  from  the 
surrounding  air  ;  for  it  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that 
its  chief  nutriment  is  derived  from  the  buried  roots. 
The  soil  supplies  water  and  mineral  constitutents  to  be 
sure  ;  but  the  true  food  of  the  tree,  the  vegetable  matter 
which  it  builds  up  into  wood  and  leaf  and  flower  and 
fruit,  comes  to  it  from  the  floating  carbon  and  hydrogen 
in  the  air  alone.  So  without  a  fair  supply  of  foliage  to 
assimilate  this  aerial  nourishment  it  is  impossible  for  the 
plant  to  produce  large  and  healthy  fruit ;  though,  on  the 
other  hand,  when  it  uses  up  allits  vigor  in  putting  forth 
a  rich  crop  of  leaves,  it  has  little  material  left  for  flowers 
or  apples.  The  pears,  however,  escaped  with  compara- 
tively little  damage  ;  they  are  earlier  by  ten  or  fifteen 
days  than  the  apple-trees,  and  they  seem  to  have  gained 


i 


200 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


strength  enough  meanwhile  to  enable  them  to  withstand 
the  gale  better  than  their  tenderer  and  later  neighbors. 
Different  trees  and  different  varieties  show  very  different 
degrees  of  hardihood  in  this  matter ;  some  kinds  of 
pear,  such  as  the  Forelle,  will  resist  frost  just  after 
flowering  which  kills  every  other  sort ;  while  compara- 
tively few  pippins  or  improved  English  varieties  of  apple 
can  be  grown  at  all  in  the  latitude  of  Stockholm.  In 
fact,  the  petty  differences  upon  which  natural  selection 
works  for  the  ultimate  production  of  new  species  exist 
abundantly  everywhere  ;  and  there  is  hardly  any  such 
difference,  however  minute,  that  will  not  give  one 
variety  an  advantage  over  another  in  some  peculiar 
habitat  or  situation. 

Fundamentally,  of  course,  apples  and  pears  may  be 
regarded  as  slightly  divergent  descendants  of  the  same 
common  ancestor.  Our  sour  little  wild  crabs  and  hedge- 
row pears  show  us  the  two  types  in  their  earliest  diver- 
gent form,  as  yet  not  very  widely  separated  from  one  an- 
other ;  for  their  distinctive  excellences  have  been  largely 
brought  out  by  cultivation,  which,  as  in  many  other 
cases,  has  exaggerated  their  differences  of  set  purpose,  so 
as  to  produce  two  fruits  in  place  of  one.  The  rose 
family,  that  great  mother  of  succulent  fruits,  which  rises 
in  one  direction  toward  the  plums  and  the  peaches,  rises 
in  another  toward  the  pears  and  apples.  But  the  mode 
in  which  the  fruity  effect  is  here  produced  greatly  differs 
in  principle  from  the  mode  in  which  it  is  produced 
among  the  plum  tribe.  There  the  solitary  seed  or 
stone,  with  its  pulpy  covering,  stands  out  from  the  calyx 
as  a  separate  organ  in  the  centre  of  the  flower  ;  here,  on 
the  contrary,  the  five  cells  or  seed- vessels  which  make  up 
the  core  have  completely  coalesced  with  the  swollen 
calyx,  so  that  the  latter  forms  the  edible  portion  of  the 


THE   P£AR  HARVEST. 


201 


r 
le 

7& 


m 


le 


so-called  fruit.  Indeed,  it  is  difficult  to  examine  a 
pear  without  observing  that  the  fleshy  part  really  consists 
of  a  mere  expansion  of  the  stalk,  with  its  fibres  gradu- 
ally lost  in  a  mass  of  sweet  succulent  tissue.  This 
change  has  been  very  curiously  brought  about  by  the 
sinking  of  the  seed-vessels  into  the  body  of  the  stalk,  a 
singular  plan  for  insuring  safer  fertilization  on  the  visits 
of  bees. 

The  same  device  is  found  throughout  all  the  allied 
members  of  the  rose  family,  such  as  the  true  roses,  the 
hawthorn,  and  the  medlar ;  but  nowhere  in  such  per- 
fection as  among  the  narrower  pear  and  apple  group. 
It  has  nothing  in  common  with  the  method  adopted  by 
the  strawberry,  where  the  common  bed  of  the  numerous 
seed-cells  assumes  a  succulent  condition  ;  nor  with  that 
adopted  by  the  raspberry  and  blackberry,  where  the 
outer  coat  of  each  scvjd-vessel  becomes  itself  a  juicy 
covering ;  nor  with  that  adopted  by  the  plum  and 
cherry,  which  is  identical  with  the  raspberry  type,  save 
that  the  number  of  pulpy  seed-vessels  to  each  blossom  is 
reduced  to  one  only.  The  immense  variety  of  plans  by 
which  nature  thus  secures  the  same  end — ^the  dispersion 
of  the  seed  by  birds  or  mammals — shows  us  that  \<'hat- 
ever  may  be  the  character  of  the  useful  tendency,  it  will 
be  equally  encouraged  and  selected  by  survival  of  the 
fittest,  irrespective  of  its  conformity  to  or  divergence 
from  any  fanciful  ideal  type. 

It  is  fairly  certain  that  the  hawthorns,  medlars,  and  a 
few  other  allied  groups  are  all  descended  from  a  common 
ancestor  with  the  pears  and  apples,  and  that  this  ances- 
tor branched  off  from  the  main  line  of  rose  development 
at  a  very  early  period.  All  of  them  still  retain  the 
primitive  number  of  five  fruit-cells,  which  has  been 
wholly    lost  in  many    allied    types.    But    while   the 


■■ipiipnM 


20'^ 


COLIN   CLOUT'jS  CALENDAlt. 


2* 


hawtliorns  and  some  of  their  congeners  have  gone  on  to 
acquire  hard,  bony,  nut-like  coverings  to  their  seeds,  the 
cell-walls  of  the  pear  and  apple  group  remain  simply 
thin  and  cartilaginous,  making  what  we  call  a  core  ;  so 
that  the  whole  fruit  can  be  readily  cut  across  with  a  knife 
— a  peculiarity  which  at  once  distinguishes  this  minor 
tribe  from  all  its  stony-celled  neighbors.  The  so-called 
wild  service-tree  (a  complete  misnomer,  for  the  cultivat- 
ed service  is  derived,  not  from  this  but  from  the  moun- 
tain ash)  still  pretty  accurately  represents  for  us  the  orig- 
inal stock  from  which  the  higher  pears  and  apples  are 
derived.  It  is  a  tall  shrub  or  small  bush,  common  in 
central  and  southern  Europe,  but  not  often  seen  in  Eng- 
land, except  in  the  southern  counties,  where  it  grows 
sparingly  in  hangers  and  copses.  Its  small  b'-own  globu- 
lar berries  are  apples  in  a  very  miniature  form  indeed. 
They  are  still  occasionally  sold  in  country  markets  ;  and 
they  form  a  favorite  food  of  small  birds,  by  whom  their 
pips  are  widely  dispersed.  In  the  shape  of  its  leaves,  as 
in  other  points,  the  wild  service-tree  may  be  regarded 
as  a  sort  of  central  junction,  whence  the  other  members 
of  the  pear  group  have  slowly  diverged  in  different 
directions.  For  while  the  true  roses  and  most  other 
early  members  of  the  rose  family  have  very  compound 
leaves,  composed  (as  everybody  knows)  of  several  little 
toothed  leaflets,  arranged  opposite  one  another  on  either 
side  of  a  common  leai^-stalk,  the  wild  service-tree  has 
broad  leaves,  vandyked  only  half-way  through  into  a 
few  pointed  lobes  ;  and  this  type  marks  it  out  at  once  as 
an  intermediate  stage  between  the  very  much  divided 
fohage  of  the  true  roses  and  the  perfectly  simple  ellipti- 
cal foliage  of  the  pear  and  the  apple. 

From  such  a  central  junction,  then,  or  rather  from 
some  ancestral  form  closely  resembling  it,  the  primitive 


THE   PEAR  HARVEST. 


203 


pear-like  bushes  began  once  more  to  split  up  under  press- 
ure of  special  selection  into  two  divergent  branches. 
One  branch,  clinging  rather  to  the  mountainous  dis- 
tricts, and  accommodating  itself  to  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances of  its  own  chosen  habitat,  developed  gradually 
into  the  rowan  or  mountain  ash  ;  a  moderate-sized  tree 
in  sheltered  uplands,  a  stunted  shrub  on  wind-swept 
summits  or  at  very  high  latitudes  beside  the  Arctic 
Circle.  Like  most  other  trees  of  windy  regions,  it  has 
its  leaves  divided  into  small  opposite  leaflets,  to  prevent 
them  from  being  tattered  by  the  storms  ;  so  that  here 
the  vandyked  lobes  of  the  wild  service-tree  have  separated 
into  a  number  of  totally  distinct  pieces,  arranged  in  reg- 
ular i'ows  along  a  central  leaf -stalk.  Indeed,  it  is  a  gen- 
eral principle  of  foliage  that  wherever  means  of  growth 
fail,  the  leaves  become  first  indented  between  the  main 
ribs  and  finally  separated  into  distinct  segments  ;  which 
produces  the  immense  variety  in  the  out§r  shape  of 
closely  related  leaves,  whose  ribs  and  veins  nevertheless 
remain  essentially  identical.  At  the  same  time,  the 
berries  of  the  mountain  ash  have  grown  very  numerous 
and  bright  red  in  hue,  so  as  to  attract  the  arctic  or  north- 
em  birds,  which  have  a  keen  eye  for  anything  like  a 
patch  of  brilliant  color.  If  you  cut  them  across  the  mid- 
dle, however,  you  will  see  that  they  remain  generically 
apples  in  structure  and  architecture  ;  while  their  culti- 
vated form,  the  service  fruit  of  the  Continent,  still  bears 
witness  to  their  common  origin  by  actually  assuming  the 
shape  of  a  little  brownish  pear.  From  the  same  central 
junction,  on  the  other  hand,  the  true  pears  and  apples 
diverged  in  another  direction,  spreading  rather  southward 
and  eastward,  and  attaining  a  tree-like  stature,  with 
foliage  and  fruits  better  adapted  to  a  lowland  existence. 
Their  leaves  gradually  lost  the  deep  lobes  of  the  wild 


i 


204 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


service-tree,  and  became  regular  ovals  in  shape,  marked 
at  the  edges  by  a  number  of  small  fine  teeth  only,  as 
befits  denizens  of  the  sheltered  dells,  with  free 
elbow-room  for  catching  the  full  flood*  of  the  air  and 
the  sunlight.  At  the  same  time,  their  flowers  grew 
fewer  and  their  fruits  larger,  as  almost  always  happens 
with  more  southerly  species  of  northern  types.  Still 
later,  the  true  pear  and  the  true  apple  parted  company 
with  one  another,  and  with  their  near  allies  the  Siberian 
crab  and  the  pyrus  japonica.  Their  real  differences  are 
after  all  very  slight ;  if  it  were  not  for  the  marked 
flavor  of  the  fruit  probably  no  one  would  ever  think  of 
reckoning  them  as  distinct  species. 


XXXYI. 


SOME  ALPINB  CLIMBERS. 

On  the  very  summit  of  the  moor  here,  among  the 
mossy  clefts  of  the  weathered  g  anite,  a  few  straggling 
tufts  of  northern  rock-cress  still  manage  to  keep  good 
their  footing  on  an  area  not  wider  in  every  direction 
than  the  circle  described  by  a  radius  of  some  four  or  five 
hundred  yards  from  the  central  boulder  on  which  I  am 
sitting.  Small  as  is  the  patch  of  ground  over  which 
they  thus  extend,  they  can  doubtless  boast  a  very  con- 
siderable prehistoric  antiquity  ;  for  there  is  every  reason 
to  believe  that  they  and  their  ancestors  have  struggled 
on  hero  in  lonely  isolation  ever  since  the  end  of  the 
great  glacial  era.  Nothing  adds  so  much  to  the  romance 
of  natural  history  as  the  fixed  habit  of  regarding  every 
separate  colony  of  plants  or  animals  as  a  tribe  or  com- 
munity, necessarily  restricted  to  intermarriage  with 
other  members  of  the  same  group  in  the  same  place  ;  it 
almost  compels  one  to  ask  one's  self  in  each  case,  how  did 
they  first  get  here,  and  how  did  they  come  to  be  per- 
manently severed  from  the  main  body  of  their  species 
elsewhere  ?  Now  northern  rock-cress  is  by  origin  a  sub- 
arctic plant,  spreading  along  all  the  higher  ranges  of 
Scandinavia,  Kussia,  and  Siberia,  with  a  few  isolated 
outliers  among  the  snowy  mountains  of  southern  Europe. 
Here  in  Britain  it  occurs  on  the  main  summits  of  the 
Scotch  Highlands,  descends  more  scantily  into  "Wales  or 
Cumberland,  and  hardly  loiters  on  upon  a  few  bleak  hill- 
tops in  Ireland  among  the  Ulster  heights.     This  moor 


r 


206 


COLIN  clout's  calendar. 


on  which  I  have  discovered  it  to-day  probably  represents 
its  furthest  southern  colony  in  the  British  Isles.  There 
was  a  time,  doubtless,  when  its  ancestors  spread  uninter- 
ruptedly over  the  whole  of  central  Europe,  from  the 
Caucasus  and  the  Urals  to  the  Asturias  and  the  Kerry 
hills  ;  but  with  the  gradual  and  still  continuous  improve- 
ment in  the  climate  of  the  northern  hemisphere  (how- 
eve  ^  a  few  bad  seasons  may  prejudice  us  to  the  con- 
trary), it  has  been  driven  to  the  arctic  regions  or  to  the 
very  tops  of  the  higher  mountains  ;  and  it  now  survives 
as  a  whole  series  of  distinct  colonies,  between  which  in- 
tercommunication can  only  be  effected  at  rare  intervals 
(if  at  all)  by  seeds  carried  across  the  intervening  warm 
tracts  through  the  agency  of  Alpine  birds.  So  very 
small  a  community  as  this  upon  whose  territory  I  have 
just  lighted  may  be  regarded  as  almost  certainly  self- 
contained  ;  for  the  chances  of  an  occasional  cross  are 
here  so  remote  as  to  represent  really  what  mathemati- 
cians would  describe  as  a  vanishing  quantity. 

Of  course,  it  might  plausibly  be  argued  that  this  little 
group  of  Alpine  rock-cresses  on  this  small  patch  of  hill- 
top may  itself  be  due  to  such  a  solitary  accident,  and 
that  it  may  very  likely  have  originated  from  a  single 
seed  dropped  on  this  congenial  spot.  That  is  quice  a 
possible  explanation  in  any  such  individual  case,  and  it 
may,  perhaps,  even  be  the  right  one  in  this  particular 
instance.  But  no  number  of  accidents  of  the  kind  could 
ever  account  for  the  persistence  with  which  almost  every 
higher  summit  in  Great  Britain  or  Ireland  still  presents 
examples  of  little  isolated  groups  belonging  to  the  arctic 
or  glacial  flora.  We  know  from  the  analogy  of  oceanic 
isles  that  a  fauna  or  flora  entirely  dependent  upon  such 
waifs  and  strays  is  always  fragmentary  and  heteroge- 
neous in  the  extreme  ;  it   contains  only  those  casual 


SOME   ALPINE  CUMBERS. 


m 


membei'S  of  larger  continental  groups  which  are  excep- 
tionally easy  of  transport  by  wind  or  weather.  But  our 
Scotch  and  Welsh  mountains  still  preserve  in  one  place 
or  another  an  immense  number  of  the  old  glacial  plants, 
without  respect  to  the  size  of  their  seeds,  the  edibility  of 
their  fruits,  or  the  suitability  of  their  actual  embryos  to 
conveyance  by  birds  or  other  known  means  of  transport. 
There  is  no  way  of  explaining  the  frequency  of  their  oc- 
currence except  by  supposing  (what  we  have  otherwise 
every  reason  to  believo)  that  they  once  spread  over  the 
whole  of  the  surrounding  regions,  and  have  been  slowly 
ousted  from  the  lower  districts  by  better  adapted  tem- 
perate lowland  forms,  so  that  they  now  survive  only  on 
the  higher  rocky  points  which  al'^ne  suit  their  northern 
constitutions.  Moreover,  they  are  also  for  the  most 
part  moribund  races  ;  they  do  not  belong  Jo  dominant 
types  which  are  now  making  their  way  triumphantly 
over  the  world,  but  to  types  left  behind  in  the  stiiiggle 
for  existence  ;  and  so,  though  they  may  still  feebly  live 
on  against  intruders  in  their  own  ancestral  haunts,  they 
are  hardly  likely  to  fight  out  the  battle  against  other 
species  if  casually  dropped  into  the  midst  of  already  oc- 
cupied and  settled  districts. 

A  great  many  of  these  stranded  glacial  flowers  still 
spread  widely  over  the  larger  part  of  the  Highlands  or 
of  the  Welsh  hills,  as  in  the  case  of  the  little  creeping 
mountain  sibbaldia,  which  forms  the  main  element  in  the 
greensward  of  the  Perthshire  moors,  or  again  as  with  the 
Alpine  hawkweed  and  the  common  crowberrv,  which 
grow  abundantly  as  far  southward  as  the  Merioneth 
cairns.  But  a  more  interesting  class  of  glacial  stragglers 
are  those  which  now  loiter  only  on  one  or  two  solitary 
mountain-tops  in  Britain,  and  do  not  again  appear  until 
we  reach  the  higher  Swiss  pastures  or  the  frost-bound 


208 


COLIN    CLOUT  b  CALENDAR. 


I 


arctic  plains.  For  example,  there  is  a  beautiful  little 
pink  campion,  the  Alpine  lychnis,  which  grows  abun- 
dantly only  in  high  latitudes  on  the  Scandinavian  coasts, 
or  at  great  elevations  among  the  Bernese  Oberland  ;  but 
which  nevertheless  manages  still  to  hold  its  own  in  two 
isolated  patches  in  Britain — one  on  the  summit  of  Little 
Kilrannock,  a  Forfarshire  mountain,  and  the  other  on 
Ilobcartin  Fell  in  the  English  lake  district.  Our  own 
country  has  long  been  so  thoroughly  explored  by  collect- 
ors that  almost  every  separate  station  for  each  ra';e 
flower  has  been  familiarly  known  for  two  or  three  gen- 
erations ;  and  thus  it  is  quite  possible  to  make  a  com- 
plete list  of  such  isolated  glacial  survivals,  perched  like 
the  European  settlers  from  the  "  Bounty*'  in  Pitcairn's 
Island,  each  on  its  own  domain  of  a  few  acres  and  sepa- 
rated by  hundreds  or  thousands  of  miles  from  its  nearest 
congeners  in  the  arctic  regions.  A  complete  catalogue 
would  occupy  many  pages  of  a  big  book  ;  but  two  or 
three  of  the  more  striking  examples  may  be  roughly 
thrown  together  in  a  few  words. 

A  little  boggy  sandwort,  now  dying  out  even  in  the 
marshes  of  arctic  Europe,  drags  on  a  lonely  existence  in 
Britain  only  among  the  upland  peat  of  Widdybank 
Fell  in  Durham.  Another  arctic  sandwort  of  moirntain 
pastures  in  the  colder  north  survives  on  the  limestone 
cliffs  of  J  jn  Bulben  in  Sligo,  and  on  a  serpentine  hill  at 
Unst  in  the  Shetland  Isles.  One  of  the  northern  chick- 
weeds  still  keeps  up  its  race  more  bravely  under  adverse 
circumstances  ;  for  it  spreads  over  all  the  tallest  Scotch 
mountains  beyond  the  Breadalbane  range,  and  also 
maintains  its  footing  in  the  Irish  hills  near  Bantry  ;  but 
if  we  may  trust  the  ordinary  analogies,  it  will  gradually 
be  driven  from  most  of  these  stations  till  at  last  it  is 
confined  to  one  solitary  chilly  summit,  where  it  will 


SOItfi   ALPINE   CLIMBERS.  209 

slowly  die  away  from  generation  to  generation.  The 
mountain  known  as  the  Sow  of  Atholl,  in  Perthshire, 
has  thus  succeeded  in  preserving  one  of  its  ancient 
glacial  inhabitants,  a  blue  heath  kno^vn  as  Menziesia, 
now  rapidly  verging  to  extinction.  The  Alpine  astniga- 
lus  lingers  on  in  the  Clova  and  Braemar  range  ;  its  ally 
the  field  oxytrope  is  also  confined  in  Britain  to  a  single 
spot  among  the  Clova  hills.  The  saxifrages  are  a  very 
glacial  group,  and  three  or  four  of  them  are  now  dis- 
tinctly becoming  more  and  more  rare  in  individuals. 
One  species  at  present  lingers  with  us  only  on  the  sum- 
mit of  Ben  Lawers  ;  another  occurs  on  the  same  moun- 
tain, 13  well  as  on  Ben  Nevis  and  Lochnagar  ;  a  third  is 
confined  to  Ben  Nevis  and  Ben  Avers  ;  a  fourth  has 
several  Scotch  and  English  colonies,  but  grows  nowhere 
in  Ireland  except  on  the  mossy  sides  of  Ben  Bulben. 
So,  too,  the  Alpine  sowthistle  is  confined  in  these  islands 
to  Clova  and  Lochnagar,  while  the  mountain  Lloydia  is 
only  known  on  three  isolated  summits  in  the  Snowdon 
range. 

Almost  all  these  plants  are,  in  all  probability,  now 
actually  in  course  of  extinction  over  the  whole  world  ; 
certainly  they  have  long  been  growing  scarcer  and  scarcer 
in  the  British  Isles.  For  example,  the  beautiful  lady's- 
slipper,  by  far  the  most  striking  of  all  northern  orchids, 
waa  once  found  in  several  parts  of  this  country  ;  but  it 
now  lingers  only  near  Settle,  in  Yorkshire,  and  on  a 
single  estate  in  Durham,  where  it  is  as  carefully  pre- 
served by  the  owner  as  if  it  were  pheasants  or  fallow 
deer.  The  same  thing  is  true  of  many  other  rare  British 
plants,  and  others,  which  once  occupied  a  few  scattered 
mountain-tops,  have  already  altogether  disappeared. 
Their  retrogression  can  hardly  be  set  down  to  the  spread 
of  cultivation,  for  man  has  done  little  or  nothing  as  yet 


1 


210 


COLIN   clout's  calendar. 


to  interfere  with  crest  of  Ben  Lomond  or  of  Scawfell ; 
we  must  rather  account  for  it  by  the  gradual  secular 
mitigation  of  the  seasons  and  the  slow  retreat  of  the 
Alpine  types  before  the  triumphant  march  of  the  central 
European  flora. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  mass  of  the  Scotch  highlands 
is  still  occupied  by  a  whole  flourishing  flora  of  glacial 
plants,  which  will  require  many  ages  yet  before  they  are 
finally  driven  out  by  the  iDt^usive  phalanx  of  Germanic 
species.  Indeed,  to  this  day  it  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  while  the  general  aspect  of  vegetation  in  Devonshire 
and  Cornwall,  or  in  the  Killarney  district,  is  now  Span- 
ish or  Portuguese,  and  while  the  general  aspect  in  Nor- 
folk and  Suffolk  is  German,  the  general  aspect  in  the 
Perthshire  hills  is  arctic  or  Alpine.  The  most  northern 
and  most  glacial  forms  are  to  be  found  only  on  a  few 
scattered  peaks  ;  but  the  slopes  and  the  straths  are  still 
richly  clothed  with  more  vigorous  sub-arctic  types  ; 
with  winter-greens  and  bear-berries  ;  Alpine  bartsia  and 
Alpine  veronica ;  the  snowy  gentian  and  the  arctic 
butterwort.  Indeed,  in  a  land  of  ptarmigans  and 
white  hares  we  may  say  that  the  glacial  epoch  in  its 
final  phase  continues  among  us  even  yet. 


XXXYII. 


BOME   AMEBICAN   COLONISTS. 


The  commonest  \^eed  in  this  little  English  garden  at 
the  present  moment  is  a  small  creeping  wood-sorrel, 
with  the  characteristic  shamrock  leaf  (for  wood-sorrel, 
not  clover,  is  the  true  trefoil  of  St,  Patrick  and  of  Ire- 
land), but  bearing  yellow  blossoms  instead  of  the  pretty 
lilac-veined  petals  of  our  own  familiar  spring  species. 
It  is  an  interesting  little  plant  in  its  own  way  ;  for,  con- 
trary to  all  the  natural  traditions  of  emigration,  it  has 
moved  eastward,  against  the  way  of  the  sun,  and  has 
come  to  us  across  the  Atlantic  from  the  broad  central 
plains  of  the  American  continent.  There  is  something 
strange  in  the  notion  of  a  weed  from  the  New  World 
overrunning  the  fields  of  the  Old,  and  living  down  the 
native  inhabitants  of  more  anciently  civilized  Europe. 
Of  course,  we  all  take  it  for  granted  that  our  own  this- 
tles, chickweeds,  and  groundsels  ought  rightfully  to  ac- 
company British  wheat  and  barley  to  every  part  of  the 
eolonizable  world  ;  indeed,  the  North  American  Indians 
call  our  common  English  ribwort  *' white  man's  foot," 
because  they  say  it  springs  up  naturally  wherever  the 
heel  of  the  pale  faces  has  trodden  the  soil.  Sir  Joseph 
Hooker  found  our  weedy  English  shepherd's  purse — 
itself  a  colonist  from  Central  Asia — growing  abundantly 
over  a  solitary  antarctic  islet ;  and  traced  it  finally  to  a 
single  seed  which  must  have  clung  accidentally  to  the 
spade  used  to  dig  the  grave  of  a  sailor,  around  which  the 
intrusive  little  plant  was  observed  to  flourish  in  great  lux- 


212 


cous  clout's  calendar. 


^ 


£'  < 


uriance.  Such  facts  as  these  we  all  know  and  expect ; 
it  seems  fit  and  proper  that  the  familiar  weeds  of  culti- 
vation should  follow  civilized  tillage  on  its  widening 
way  over  the  world.  But  we  are  more  surprised  when 
wo  find  that  a  good  many  American  weeds  have  also 
forced  their  way  eastward — against  the  stream,  so  to 
speak — and  have  invaded  the  Old  World,  en  revanche, 
with  the  potatoes  and  the  maize,  achieving  such  success 
as  to  have  lived  down  more  than  one  of  their  European 
compeers.  In  southern  France  and  Italy  the  number  of 
these  eastward  immigrants  is  very  considerable  ;  and 
even  in  wetter  and  chillier  England,  a  poor  foster- 
mother  for  children  of  the  basking  American  plains,  it  is 
far  from  being  either  small  or  unnoticeable.  Such 
cases  are  not  in  themselves  at  all  more  remarkable  than 
those  of  the  phylloxera,  which  has  already  made  good 
its  footing  in  Europe,  or  of  the  Colorado  beetle,  which 
we  are  now  endeavoring  feebly  to  repel ;  but  they  seem 
more  curious  at  first  sight,  because  the  aggressiveness  of 
fixed  and  unconscious  plants  is  harder  to  understand  than 
the  aggressiveness  of  locomotive  and  volitional  animal 
organisms. 

Two  of  these  American  wood-sorrels,  both  with  yellow 
flowers,  have  now  made  themselves  a  permanent  home 
in  England,  and  have  even  conquered  their  admission 
within  the  exclusive  lists  of  the  British  flora.  One  of 
them  has  long  been  a  universal  weed  in  all  hot  climates 
of  the  globe  and  in  most  temperate  ones,  having  followed 
the  tobacco-plant  to  Syria  and  Java  and  accompanied  the 
tomato  to  all  the  warmer  climates  of  Mediterranean 
Europe.  In  England  it  appears  chiefly  in  the  southern 
counties,  and  does  not  thrive  well  in  the  midlands  or 
the  north.  But  some  other  American  weeds  have  had 
better  luck  among  us  ;  such,  for  example,  as  the  tiny 


i  K 


SOME   AMERICAN   COLONIST!, 


213 


white  claytonia,  a  straggling  round-leaved  succulent 
plant,  not  unlike  the  garden  purslanes.  This  queer 
little  tufted  trailer,  a  familiar  weed  in  American  gardens, 
has  thickly  overrun  many  parts  of  Lancashire,  liaving 
doubtless  been  landed  at  Liverpool.  In  another  direc^ 
tion,  it  has  effected  an  entry  by  the  port  of  London,  and 
spread  in  abundance  over  many  parts  of  Surrey,  besides 
making  little  excursions  up  the  river  to  Oxfordshire  and 
attacking  several  of  the  neigliboring  counties  on  its  on- 
ward march.  It  is  still  rapidly  advancing  ;  and  though 
but  a  naturalized  alien,  it  threatens  before  many  years 
to  become  one  of  our  most  annoying  and  persistent 
garden-weeds. 

A  rather  pretty  American  balsam,  with  orange  blos- 
soms spotted  with  red,  has  in  like  manner  made  itself  a 
firm  local  habitation  on  the  banks  of  the  Wey  and  sundry 
others  among  the  Surrey  streams.  Then  there  is  the 
Canadian  Michaelmas  daisy,  long  completely  naturalized 
on  the  Continent,  and  now  beginning  to  push  its  way 
boldly  along  the  grassy  margin  of  southern  English  road- 
sides. All  these  are  thoroughgoing  weeds,  extremely 
troublesome  in  America  itself  as  well  as  in  the  European 
countries  where  they  have  established  themselves  ;  and 
they  are  rendered  dangerous  by  the  fact  that  they  come 
from  a  very  large  continent  mainly  consisting  of  open 
prairie,  which  insures  them  excellent  weedy  constitu- 
tions, as  the  final  survivors  in  an  exceptionally  severe 
struggle  for  existence  among  highly  adapted  prairie 
plants.  They  have  come  across  to  us  by  accident  as  mere 
weeds,  clinging  to  the  tubers  or  roots  of  imported  food- 
plants.  Somewhat  different  is  the  case  of  ornamental 
blossoms  like  the  mimulus,  originally  planted  in  flower- 
gardens,  but  now  fairly  established  as  an  escape  in  boggy 
or  marshy  ground.     Of  these  handsome  straylings  we 


2U 


COLIN   clout's   CALE^'DAU. 


have  several  acclimatized  varieties  ;  but  tliey  do  not 
spread  like  tlie  regular  weeds,  nor  have  thej  the  eame 
Btrength  of  constitution  which  enables  the  claytonia  and 
the  Michaelmas  daisy  to  compete  successfully  with  the 
old-established  weeds  of  cultivation  in  southern  Europe. 
Even  more  interesting,  however,  than  these  aliens, 
which  owe  their  introduction  directly  or  indirectly  to 
man,  are  the  real  natural  colonists  from  America,  which 
are  found  sparingly  in  many  places  along  our  exposed 
western  coasts,  from  the  Hebrides  to  Cornwall.  Many 
of  them,  no  doubt,  have  been  acclimatized  in  Britain 
long  before  the  discovery  of  America  by  the  Spaniards  ; 
for  all  the  evidence  goes  to  suggest  that  theii  seeds  nmst 
have  been  carried  across  the  Atlantic  by  the  agency  of 
sea-birds,  or  must  have  been  wafted  over  in  the  crevices 
of  drift-wood,  or  must  have  been  w^ashed  ashore  by  the 
favoring  current  of  the  Gulf  Stream.  For  example,  in 
the  lakes  and  tarns  of  the  Isle  of  Skye,  Coll,  and  the 
outer  Hebrides,  as  Avell  as  in  the  shallow  loughs  of  Con- 
nemara  and  Kerry,  a  slender  graceful  water-plant  with 
pellucid  leaves  grows  abundantly  over  the  soft  mud,  and 
forms  a  tufted  waving  carpet  above  the  smooth  shining 
bottom,  with  its  white  jointed  fibres  and  grass-like 
blades.  This  pretty  weed  belongs  to  a  family  otherwise 
wholly  unrepresented  in  Europe,  but  common  in  all  the 
still  waters  of  America.  Clearly,  from  the  nature  of  its 
distribution  here — only  along  the  extreme  western  belt 
of  the  British  Isles,  where  the  coast  lies  fully  exposed  to 
the  long  wash  of  the  Atlantic — it  must  have  reached  our 
shores  by  some  such  casual  accident  as  those  which  have 
peopled  oceanic  islands,  like  the  Azores,  with  their  scanty 
fauna  and  flora.  Its  seeds  must  have  clung  to  the  legs  of 
wading  birds  blown  eastward  before  a  northern  cyclone, 
or  else  its  roots  must  have  been  torn  up  entire  and  cast 


m^ 


SOME   AMERICAN   COLONISTS. 


215 


upon  some  shelving  Irish  coast  by  westerly  winds.  Sim- 
ilarly, in  a  few  Conneraara  pools,  as  well  as  in  two  or 
three  Continental  stations,  another  pretty  little  American 
water-plant,  classically  named  the  naiad,  has  long  grown 
in  isolated  colonies,  cut  off  by  the  Atlantic  from  the 
main  body  of  its  race  in  Massachusetts  and  Labrador.  A 
beautiful  small  white  orchid,  too,  distantly  allied  to  our 
common  English  lady's-tresses,  abounds  all  over  the  east- 
ern half  of  North  America  ;  but  in  Europe,  it  is  known 
only  in  a  few  bogs  in  County  Cork,  where  the  ardor  of 
modern  botanists  is  rapidly  putting  an  end  to  its  brief 
European  career.  This  case  presents  some  features  of 
peculiar  interest,  because  the  Irish  specimens  seem  to 
have  been  settled  in  the  country  for  a  very  long  period, 
sufficient  to  have  set  up  an  incipient  tendency  toward  tho 
evolution  of  a  new  species  ;  for  they  had  so  far  varied 
befoie  their  first  discovery  by  botanists  that  Lindley  con- 
sidered them  to  be  distinct  from  their  American  allies  ; 
and  even  Dr.  Bentham  originally  so  classed  them,  though 
he  now  admits  the  essential  identity  of  both  kinds.  The 
blue  Bermuda  grass-lily,  again,  a  common  and  extremely 
graceful  American  meadow- weed,  is  found  in  one  place 
only  in  Europe  ;  and  that  is  near  Woodford,  in  Gal  way, 
where  it  does  not  appear  to  have  been  introduced  by 
human  agency. 

It  would  even  have  been  possible  before  the  days  of 
Columbus  for  a  philosophical  botanist  of  the  modern 
type  (had  one  then  been  imaginable)  to  have  predicted 
the  existence  of  the  American  continent  from  the  occur- 
rence of  so  many  strange  plants  in  isolated  situations  on 
the  western  shores  of  Britain  and  Scandinavia.  He  would 
rightly  have  argued  that  these  unfamiliar  weeds,  not 
belonging  to  any  part  of  the  European  flora,  and  some- 
times even  differing  wholly  from  any  known  family  of 


21Q 


COLIN  CLOUT'S  CALENDAR. 


SffiVf 


lU 


III 


European  plants,  must  have  come  with  the  prevailing 
winds  and  currents  from  some  unknown  land  beyond  the 
sea.  That  the  plants  in  question  grew  there  even  then 
is  highly  probable,  because  most  of  them  bear  every  sign 
of  great  antiquity  :  certainly,  they  are  not  likely  to  have 
been  introduced  by  man,  since  the  larger  number  are 
mere  inconspicuous  water-plants,  which  could  not  come 
over  with  cultivated  seeds  or  tubers,  and  which  would 
not,  of  course,  be  deliberately  planted  in  gardens.  On 
the  other  hand,  when  once  introduced  by  chance,  they 
would  be  sure  to  gain  a  firm  footing  ;  because  America, 
with  its  enormous  stretches  of  fresh  water,  in  rivers, 
lakes,  and  innumerable  scattered  ponds,  is  far  richer  in 
strong  and  well-endowed  aquatic  weeds  than  relatively 
hilly  and  lakeless  Europe.  This  peculiarity  is  well  seen 
in  the  career  of  the  Canadian  pondweed,  which  was  first 
introduced  into  England  as  a  botanical  specimen  in  1847, 
and  rapidly  spread  through  canals  and  sluggish  waters 
over  the  whole  of  Britain.  No  European  weed  can  stand 
against  it ;  and  what  makes  its  progress  the  more  re- 
markable is  that  it  seldom  or  never  seeds  in  this  coun- 
try, propagating  entirely  by  its  lissom  floating  rootless 
branches.  Still,  the  area  over  which  it  has  made  its 
way,  and  the  centres  from  which  it  started — Yorkshire, 
Leicestershire,  Berwick,  and  Edinburgh — clearly  show 
(what  is  otherwise  well  known)  that  it  owes  its  introduc- 
tion to  human  means  :  while  the  spontaneous  occurrence 
of  the  other  water-plants  in  a  few  lonely  portions  of  the 
western  coasts  equally  suggests  that  they  owe  their  trans- 
plantation solely  to  birds  or  ocean-currents. 


w  I 


XXXVIII. 


THE  WEEDS   OF   BEDMOOB. 


Out  on  the  red  moor  liero  tlie  sea-breeze  blows  wet 
and  misty,  and  the  brine  may  almost  be  tasted  in  the 
fine  spray  that  floats  around  us,  covering  the  low  strag- 
gling vegetation  of  the  salt  marsh  with  a  thin  film  of 
incrusting  crystals.  For  there  are  moors  and  moors  in 
England ;  and  this  particular  Bedmoor  by  no  means 
fulfils  the  prior  expectations  that  might  be  formed  of  it 
from  its  high-sounding  name.  To  our  early  English  an- 
cestors, in  fact,  a  moor  meant  almost  any  tract  of  wild  or 
uninclosed  ground  ill  fitted  by  nature  for  human  habita- 
tion or  tillage.  It  was  as  indefinite  and  as  expansive  in 
sense  as  the  Australian  word  "bush,"  or  the  Norman 
equivalent  "  forest."  So  in  Yorkshire  a  moor  means  a 
high  stretch  of  undulating  heath-covered  rock  ;  whereas 
in  Somerset  it  means  a  low  flat  level  of  former  marsh- 
land, reclaimed  and  drained  by  means  of  numerous 
"rhines" — as  local  farmers  still  call  them,  with  fond 
clinging  to  an  old  Celtic  common  name,  which  has  else- 
where grown  into  the  specific  Teutonic  title  of  the  most 
German  among  European  rivers.  Bedmoor  belongs 
.  rather  to  the  latter  type  :  a  little  triangular  patch  of 
I^orset  coast  swamp,  cut  off  from  the  sea  by  a  narrow 
belt  of  coarse  shingle,  and  intersected  by  numerous  tidal 
ditches,  with  occasional  flat  expansions  of  fathomless 
muddy  ooze.  It  is  not  a  beautiful  place,  truly,  in  its 
main  features ;  and  yet  it  revels  in  a  wealth  of  color  that 
ft  painter  dare  hardly  imitate,  and  a  profusion  of  minute 


Fr^ 


218 


COLIK  clout's  calendar. 


! 


m 


im. 


•  I 


detail  that  even  a  Dutch  painter  could  never  oream  of 
reproducing  on  his  toilsome  canvas. 

I  spoke  just  now  of  Bedmoor  as  red  ;  and  the  epithet 
is  really  the  only  one  that  will  exactly  fit  it  at  the  pres- 
ent moment.  It  is  not  parple,  like  a  side  of  Brae- 
mar  covered  thickly  with  a  great  sheet  of  flowering 
Scotch  heather  ;  nor  yet  pink,  like  a  bit  of  the  Lizard 
promontory,  clothed  from  end  to  end  with  the  flesh- 
colored  panicles  of  the  Cornish  heath  ;  nor  is  it  pale 
mauve,  like  a  patch  of  some  midland  common  richly 
overspread  with  our  ordinary  little  Engh'sh  ling :  it  is 
simply  red  and  nothing  else,  crimson  with  the  brilliant 
hue  of  the  Virginia  creeper  in  Magdalen  cloisters  when 
the  frost  first  •matches  its  dying  foliage  in  the  opening 
dayp  of  October  term.  Kot  that  the  whole  expanse  is 
red  alike  all  over  :  the  crimson  bits  spread  here  and  there 
in  great  patches  between  taller  herbage  of  mingled  green 
and  gray.  At  first  sight,  even  those  who  know  and  love 
the  marshy  lands  would  hardly  guess  what  it  is  that  gives 
these  exquisite  passages  of  warm  color  to  the  quiet  vege- 
tation of  Bedmoor  ;  but  when  one  descends  upon  tlie 
low-lying  land  itself,  the  crimson  patches  reveal  them- 
selves as  semi -tidal  mud -flats  overgrown  by  two  common 
little  seaside  weeds,  glasswoit  and  sea-blite.  Even  in 
their  green  summer  dress  they  are  curious  and  interest- 
ing plants ;  but  when  the  autumn  hues  begin  to  tinge 
them  in  great  masses,  as  on  these  muddy  reaches  among 
the  salt  marsh,  they  come  out  in  a  perfect  blazo  of  deep 
crimson  such  as  no  other  English  foliage  can  ever  equal. 
It  is  not  often,  however,  that  they  grow  together  over 
large  enough  spaces,  unmixed  with  other  weeds,  to 
form  the  one  main  element  in  the  coloration  of  a  con- 
siderable tract :  and  what  makes  Bedmoor  at  this  moneut 
to  beautiful  and  interesting  is  just  the  fact  tluitth*  imm^ 


o 


THE    WEEDS   OF    BEDMOOR. 


219 


^; 


dated  levels  where  the  glasswort  and  the  sea-blite  love 
to  crawl  among  the  soft  ooze  are  here  bo  large  and  con- 
tinuous, stretching  long  arms  in  and  out  among  the  rank 
brown  grasses  and  fluffy  aster-heads  that  form  the  herb- 
age of  the  intervening  drier  belts.  A  sluice  at  the  mouth 
of  the  tidal  backwater  shuts  off  the  sea  from  these  natur- 
ally flooded  branches  of  the  little  channel ;  so  that  the 
succulent  weeds  have  it  all  their  own  way  upon  the  con- 
genial mud,  where  they  creep  and  bask  in  crimson  lux- 
uriance without  fear  of  competition  from  the  drier  plants 
of  t  tie  surrounding  meadow. 

Taken  in  its  minutest  details,  the  vegetation  of  Bed- 
moor  is  quaint  and  interesting  to  the  highest  degree. 
Only  a  pair  of  skinny  horses  eat  down  the  taller  herb- 
age ;  while  a  few  lean,  lank  pigs  of  dolorous  aspect  grub 
hopelessly  for  tubers  along  the  edge  of  the  slimy  ooze. 
The  red  weeds  themselves  are  some  of  the  strangest 
among  our  native  English  plants — succulent,  cactus-look- 
ing seaside  denizens,  which  collect  quantities  of  alkaline 
material  from  the  saturated  soil  in  wliose  mud  they  grow, 
and  which  used  fonnerly  therefore  to  be  burned  for 
barilla,  in  the  days  when  England  was  more  dependent 
upon  home  produce  for  feeding  her  industries  than  she  is 
now.  That  is  how  one  of  them  got  its  popular  name  of 
glaaswort.  As  they  grow  together  on  the  soft  bed  of  the 
dried  pool — Oxford  clay  well  kneaded  with  salt  water — 
the  two  weeds  look  quite  indistinguishable  from  one 
another  ;  for  both  share  the  common  succulence  of  seaside 
plants,  familiar  to  most  of  us  in  samphire  and  saltwort, 
and  both  have  turned  to  the  very  selfsame  shade  of  red 
under  the  influence  of  their  identical  conditions.  When 
you  pull  them  and  examine  them  closely,  however,  you 
see  that  there  are  marked  differences  in  their  flowers  and 
their  mode  of  growth.     Both  belong  by  origin  to  the 


r 


220 


i<' 


COLIK    CLOUT  H   CALENDAU. 


i 


goosefoot  tribe  ;  but  glasswort  is  far  more  degenerate 
in  character  than  its  very  similar  neighbor.  Sea-blite, 
in  fact,  can  still  boast  the  possession  of  distinct  leaves 
and  Howei's,  though  the  leaves  are  reduced  to  mere 
shapeless  ileshy  branch-like  masses,  and  the  flowers  are 
scarcely  more  than  small  greenish  pulpy  knobs.  But 
glasswort  has  gone  much  farther  on  the  path  of  degra- 
dation ;  it  has  lost  its  leaves  altogether,  while  its  flowers 
have  sunk  almost  indistinguishably  into  the  general  mass 
of  its  stem.  The  whole  plant  looks,  accordingly,  like  a 
series  of  jointed  pieces,  with  a  little  pyramidal  cluster  of 
three  sunken  knobs,  representing  what  were  once  blos- 
soms, at  each  joint  of  the  articulated  branches.  Alone 
among  English  weeds,  it  approaches  somewhat  in  quaint- 
ness  and  oddity  of  arrangement  the  great  leafless  cactuses 
and  euphorbias  of  tropical  deserts. 

The  other  plants  that  cover  the  sides  of  the  moor  are  al- 
most  as  interesting  in  their  own  way  ar  the  crimson  creep- 
ing weeds  that  spread  over  the  mudbank.  The  edge  of  the 
watercourses  is  fringed  with  feathery  spear-grass,  its  cot- 
ton-tufted seeds  just  protruding  from  the  purple  scales 
that  hide  them.  A  few  late  asters  linger  on  in  blossom 
among  them,  with  lilac  rays  and  yellow  centres,  like 
Michaelmas  daisies  ;  and  thick  fleshy  leaves,  often  pic- 
kled by  country  housewives  as  a  poor  substitute  for  that 
almost  forgotten  relish,  samphire.  For  the  most  part, 
however,  the  asters  are  now  fully  in  fruit :  each  head 
covered  by  a  fluffy  mass  of  gossamer-winged  seeds,  that 
fly  away  by  hundreds  with  every  breath  of  the  misty  sea- 
breeze.  No  wonder  they  grow  by  hundreds  on  the  flats 
here  ;  seeing  that  each  head  produces  a  hundred  seeds, 
and  each  seed  flies  away  lightly  on  its  own  account  to 
find  a  fitting  resting-place  by  some  similar  pool  or  tidal 
hollow.     On  the  bank  by  the  confining  shingle  beach  thei 


THB   W££D3  OV  BBDMOOR, 


2n 


Strawberry  clover  spreads  its  ripening  heads,  which  adopt 
the  exactly  opposite  tactics  of  protective  devices  against 
animd  invaders  ;  for  the  seeds  are  hero  inclosed  in  a  little 
swollen  network  of  calyx-veins,  which  redden  as  they 
ripen,  giving  the  head  a  rough  resemblance  to  a  rasp- 
berry rather  than  to  tho  sister  fruit  from  which  it  takes 
its  popular  name.     Altogether,  tho  flora  of  Bedmoor  is 
rich  and  tempting.     Even  the  casual  passer-by  pauses 
on  the  causeway  that  carries  the  road  across  the  moor  to 
admire  the  brilliant  coloring  of  crimson  glasswort  and 
yellow  ragwort :  tho  patches  of  red  are  on  too  large  a 
scale  not  to  attract  the  least  observant  eye:  but  to 
those  who  love  pottering  about,  with  all  attention  fixed 
on  the  beautiful  things  below,  it  is  a  very  paradise  of 
,  native  seaside  vegetation. 


I 


XXIX. 


I' 


I*  . 


THOR'B    HAMMER. 

Apter  a  long  hunt  on  a  gloomy  autumn  morning 
am^ng  tho  prehistoric  earthworks  which  crown  the  East 
Cliff,  I  have  come  at  last  across  a  genuine  relic  which 
well  repays  me  for  the  trouble  and  discomfort  of  grub* 
bing  in  tho  loose  surface-soil  amid  fog  and  drizzle. 
For,  unless  I  mistake,  the  object  which  I  now  hold  in 
my  hand,  rather  grimed  with  clay  and  age,  but  still 
showing  traces  of  its  polished  surface  through  the  thick 
crust  of  earth,  is  nothing  less  than  the  identical  hammer 
of  the  great  god  Thor  himself.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  shapely 
flint  axe  belonging  to  the  later  Stone  Age,  when  men 
had  learned  to  grind  and  smooth  their  tools  or  weapons  ; 
and  it  once  formed  a  possession  of  the  ancient  Euskarian 
chief  whose  remains  still  lie  unmolested  in  the  great  bar- 
row which  forms  the  central  point  of  the  earthwork. 
For,  though  the  country  people  call  the  rough  inclosure 
"  Caesar's  Camp,"  an  archaeological  eye  recognizes  at 
once  that  its  irregular  outline  could  nevf^r  have  belonged 
to  one  of  the  square  and  symmetrical  Boman  stations  ; 
while  the  shape  of  the  barrow,  which  is  long  instead  of 
round,  shows  clearly  that  it  was  first  erected  by  the 
aboriginal  stone-using  race,  not  by  the  later  and  intrusive 
bronze- weaponed  Aryan  Celts.  If  there  were  any  doubt 
at  all  about  the  matter,  this  stone  hatchet,  which  is 
thoroughly  Euskarian  in  type,  would  set  the  question  at 
rest  in  a  moment. 

But  why  should  I  identify  this  old  neolithic  weapon 
with  the  mythical  hammer   of  the  Scandinavian  god 


tbor's  hammer. 


2^8 


Tlior  ?  The  fiuskarians  are  separated  in  our  island 
from  the  Anglo-Saxons  and  Danes  by  all  the  long  inter- 
val of  Pritish  and  Roman  times.  How  can  a  polished 
hatchet  of  the  later  Stone  Age  have  anything  to  do 
with  the  chief  deity  of  a  race  who  peopled  Britain  a 
couple  of  thousand  years  after  the  hatchet  itself  had 
been  safely  buried  beside  the  dead  chieftain  in  yonder 
barrow  ?  Well,  the  connection  is  far  closer  than  one 
would  at  first  sight  be  tempted  to  suppose.  We  must 
remember  that  philology,  though  it  tells  us  a  great  deal 
about  the  origin  of  myths,  does  not  tell  us  everything. 
Popular  superstitions,  in  fact,  do  not  as  a  rile  gather 
about  language  at  all,  but  about  certain  tangible  and 
material  objects,  supposed  to  have  a  mystical  virtue. 
It  may  be  a  crooked  sixpence,  or  a  horseshoe,  or  a  blood- 
stone, or  the  charms  on  a  watch-chain.  It  may  bo  a 
standing  stone,  or  an  oak,  or  a  mistletoe  bough.  It  may 
be  Dr.  Dee's  crystal,  or  the  Lee  penny,  or  the  Luck  of 
Edenhall,  or  the  Stone  of  Ardvoirloch.  But  whatevQr 
it  is,  it  is  usually  a  definite  thing,  to  bo  seen  and  handled 
by  all :  something,  as  a  rule,  which  in  some  way  excites 
one^B  curiosity,  or  suggests  by  the  mode  of  its  occurrence 
a  supernatural  origin. 

Now,  objects  dug  up  from  the  ground,  and  not  Icnown 
to  be  of  human  workmanship,  are  specially  apt  to  meet 
with  such  superstitious  reverence.  Among  them  the 
commonest,  in  Europe  at  least,  are  stone  weapons.  We 
all  know  already  by  what  gradual  steps  the  neolithic  ar- 
rows came  to  be  regarded  as  elfbolts  or  fairy  darts  ;  but 
a  somewhat  different  belief  grew  up  about  the  larger  and 
more  formidable-looking  stone  axes  of  the  same  primi- 
tive people.  It  is  a  universal  idea  among  the  scientifi- 
cally ignorant  that  lightning  consists  of  a  material 
weapon — the  thunderbolt.     Hence  all  large  weapon^i  or 


;^4 


coLiK  clout's  calendar. 


objects  which  look  like  weapons,  found  underground, 
are  popularly  known  as  thunderbolts.  In  districts 
where  big  species  of  belemnites — the  bones  of  a  fossil 
cuttle-fish — occur  in  any  numbers,  these  lance-like  pet- 
rifications receive  that  name.  But  all  over  England, 
France,  Norway,  Sweden,  Germany,  Holland,  and  Italy, 
the  polished  stone  axes  of  the  Euskarian  aborigines  are 
also  known  as  thunderbolts,  and  believed  to  have  fallen 
from  the  sky.  Even  in  countries  where  the  Stone  Age 
has  lasted  till  a  recent  period  the  hatchets  are  already 
regarded  in  this  light,  and  viewed  with  superstitious  rev- 
erence accordingly.  The  Jainaican  negroes  thus  re- 
gard the  beautiful  greenstone  axes  of  the  old  Caribs  ; 
and  the  Canadian  farmers  give  the  same  name  to  the 
finished  weapons  of  the  Hurons  and  the  Objibways.  In 
Japan,  Java,  Burmah,  and  West  Africa  the  selfsame 
belief  holds  good.  Everywhere  the  stone  axe  becomes  a 
thunderbolt  in  the  popular  estimation. 

.  "When  the  old  Teutonic  and  Scandinavian  hordes  sep- 
arated from  their  Aryan  ancestors  in  Central  Asia,  they 
carried  away  with  them  to  their  new  homes  in  the  forests 
of  Germany  or  by  the  shores  of  the  Baltic  the  primitive 
religion  of  the  Aryan  race.  But  the  great  sky-god  of  the 
Aryans,  the  Sanskrit  Dyaus,  the  Greek  Zeus,  the 
Roman  Jupiter,  whose  main  function  it  was  to  wield 
the  lightnings  and  gather  the  clouds,  became  known  and 
remembered  among  the  Teutonic  races  as  Thunder  only. 
His  Anglo-Saxon  name  of  Thunor — ^from  which  comes 
our  thunder — is  in  High  German  Donner,  and  in  Scan- 
dinavian Thor.  But  the  position  of  his  sacred  day  in 
the  order  of  t^ie  week  shows  his  identity  with  Zeus  ;  for 
Thursday,  originally  Thunrea  dceg,  answers  of  course  to 
J<m8  dies  or  Jeudi.  Among  the  Teutons,  however, 
ThuhGi*  or  Thor  is  always  armed  with  a  hammer  ;  and 


THOK*S   HAMMEIl. 


225 


this  hammer,  I  venture  to  suggest,  is  really  the  stone 
axe  of  the  aboriginal  Euskarians.  Men  who  found  such 
axes  in  the  ground  have  everywhere  leaped  at  once  to 
the  conclusion  that  they  were  thunderbolts.  What  more 
natural,  then,  than  to  figure  the  god  Thunder  as  armed 
with  such  an  axe  'i  In  fact,  we  get  direct  evidence  on 
the  subject  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  literature  itself  ;  for  in 
the  "  Exeter  Book"  the  lightning  is  described  as  the 
**  weapon  of  the  car-borne  god,  Thunor ;"  while  in 
another  contemporary  poem  the  thunder  is  described  as 
threshing  **  with  its  fiery  axe."  "When  we  put  all  these 
facts  together,  I  hardly  see  how  we  can  avoid  the  infer- 
ence that  the  early  English  and  Noi-semen  formed  their 
conception  of  Thor's  hammer  from  the  stone  hatchets 
which  they  knew  as  thunderbolts. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  curious  to  note  how  the  two 
conceptions  of  the  stone  hatchet,  as  the  thunderbolt 
and  as  a  fairy  relic,  have  lingered  on  side  by  side.  In 
Scotland,  for  example,  these  old  weapons  are  supersti- 
tiously  cherished  in  fanrilies  as  talismans  for  keeping 
away  misfortunes  and  curing  disease.  This  shows  that 
they  are  still  vaguely  remembered  as  belonging  to  the 
elves,  who  send  sickness  and  calamities,  and  whose  influ- 
ence may  be  averted  by  possession  of  an  object  which 
once  belonged  to  them.  They  are  believed,  in  particu- 
lar, to  assist  the  birth  of  children — a  function  with 
which  fairies  are  always  closely  conn«;ted — and  to 
increase  the  milk  of  cows,  which  fairies  are  often  known 
spitefully  to  dry  up.  But  then  they  are  also  regarded 
by  these  very  people  as  thunderbolts,  and  supposed  to 
protect  the  houses  in  which  they  are  kept  against  light- 
ning. It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  such  heathen  supersti- 
tions still  exist  in  Presbyterian  Scotland  more  perhaps 
than  in  any  other  part  of  the  British  Isles. 


226 


COLIN    clout's   calendar. 


'i   .' 


Finally,  I  should  much  like  to  know  whether  stone 
hatchets  have  anything  to  do  with  those  places  in  Eng- 
land which  are  still  called  after  Thunor.  There  is  a 
Tlmnderstield  in  Surrey,  a  Thundersley  in  Essex,  a 
Thursfield  in  Staffordshire,  a  Thursby  in  Cumberland, 
and  a  Thursford  in  ]N"orfolk,  all  of  which  take  their  titles 
from  the  Anglo-Saxon  Thunor  or  the  Danish  Thor. 
Near  Thursley,  in  Surrey,  is  a  Thunder  Hill.  Now,  as 
we  see  that  the  names  of  the  fairies  cling  about  those 
places  where  stone  arrows  or  elf-bolts  are  abundant,  it 
would  be  interesting  to  learn  whether  any  large  find  of 
stone  hatchets  has  ever  been  discovered  at  any  of  these 
towns  or  hills,  or  whether  any  long  barrows  occur  in 
their  neighborhood.  Of  course  it  is  possible  that  the 
names  may  only  be  due  to  some  old  heathen  temple  or 
meeting-place  ;  but  it  is  also  possible  that  they  may  be 
due  to  actual  visible  tokens  of  Thunor's  presence  found 
upon  the  spots  in  question. 


1^ 


»l^ 


lOBBSKS 


INDEX. 


A. 

Almond  blossoms,  87. 

America,  how  its  oxistenee  might  have 
been  predicted  before  its  discov- 
ery, 215. 

April  showers,  7. 

Asparagus,  time  of  blossoming,  176. 
origin  of,  17«, 

description  <  f  the  wild,  177. 
a  species  of  lily,  178. 
batcher^s  bruom  a  close  ally  of,  179. 

B. 

Bedmoor,  the  weed  of,  217. 

what  makes  red,  S18. 
_^        description  of  the  red  weed  of,  219. 
Bees  seekin;;  honey,  12. 

their  calendar,  8B. 
Berries,  varieties  of,  119. 
Blnebell  of  Scotland,  35. 
British  isles,  their  number,  71. 

names  of,  72. 

vegetation  in,  73. 

animals  in,  74. 
Brambles,  different  species,  127. 
Butterworth„the  weather  it  loves,  129. 
.  deadly  to  inesctii,  132. 

a  distant  cousin  to  the  primrose. 

184.  .-  -1 

Battercupb,  42. 

C. 

Charlock,  description  of,  154. 
Cherries,  the  flrst  ripe,  117. 
Ohickweed,  where  fbnnd,  208. 
Claverton  Down,  20. 
Climbers,  Alpine,  205. 

in  what  countries  found,  206. 

their  retrogression  accounted  for. 

209. 
Clover,  blooms  of,  76. 

study  of,  77. 

bees  in,  78. 

Huxley  on,  78. 

red  and  white,  81. 
Coltsfoot,  41. 
Cowslips,  how  they  differ  from    prim- 

1*0868   d 

Cruclfer  plants,  variety  of,  156. 


Darwin's  observation  on  trout,  88. 
Dog-rose,  an  earnest  of  summer,  128. 

how  it  got  its  name,  12.3. 

seventeen  distinct  speeios,  126. 

how  it  differs  from   the    downy 

rose,  126. 

E. 

England,  change  of  climate  in,  16. 

Pore  Acre,  8. 

_       origin  of  the  word,  8. 
Flowersin  July,  111. 
Forest,  the  submerged,  66. 

Giraldus  Cambrensis's  description 

of,  67. 

the  date  of,  67. 

the  depth  of,  68. 
Fruit,  coloring  of,  48. 

G. 

Geranium  described,  146. 

where  they  first  grew,  147. 

developed  from  a  primitive  ances- 
tor, 149. 
Geologists,  views  of,  22. 
Giant's  grave,  the,  description  of,  76. 
GodshiU.  seen  plainly  a  sign  of  rain,  56. 
Grasses,  the  aowering  of,  60. 

number  of  species  in  Britain,  61. 

description,  62. 

adaptation  to  particular  station, 

65. 

secrets  of  their  success,  66. 
Grouse,  origin  of,  ISa. 

Wallace,  his  observations  on.  188. 

willow,  changes  its  coat  in  winter, 

190. 

elements  affect  the  color  of,  101. 


Dandelion,  the  elorks  of,  8B.  ■ 
descriptioii  of,  S4. 
diffcthig  fl-om^aissr,  Bi. 


H. 

Hare,  the  blue,  of  Scotland,  186. 

its  geographical  diotribution,  136. 

change  of  color,  138 

the  Irish,  variety  of,  189. 
Hay,  Ingredients  of,  101. 
Hayfleld,  foes  in  the,  94. 
Haymaking  dtecribed,  100. 
Horee-chestnnts,  28. 
Hops,  blossoming  aa evidence  of  comlnff 

autumn,  169. 

fracitul  and  beintlftH,  IflO. 
'  fbrmedforeliAiblag.'iei 

practical  Interest  of,  m. 


228 


INDEX. 


I':  Wi 


i\ 


Humming-bird,  61. 

{)oint8  of  convergenee  with  Bun- 
)ird,  53. 
Hyaclnthd,  wild,  S4. 

description  of,  Sd. 

I. 

Insects,  food  of  tropical,  SI. 

J. 

Jerdon,  Dr.,  his  study  «f  birds  of  India* 
53. 

L. 

Lambs,  rpring,  36. 
Leaf,  the  green.  &5. 
LeavoM,  What  they  are,  68. 

M. 

May  flies  on  Venlake,  30. 
Meadow-brome  described,  68 
Mole,  the,  nt  home,  iW. 

description  of,  106. 

food  of,  108. 

fortress  of  the,  110. 

N. 
Nastnrtinm,  ancestry  of,  150. 

P. 

Peaches,  where  they  originally  belonged, 

195. 
Pears,  the  ancestry  of,  800. 

description     tree     in     southern 

Europe,  202. 

leaves  of  the  tree  described,  208. 
Plants,  why  they  disperse  their  seed,  86. 

wild,  how  changt  d.  103. 

development  of,  104, 121. 

in8ect..eating,  133. 
Plami>.  family   to  which    they  belong, 

198. 
Plnm  trees,  why  they  have  lost  their 

thorns,  197. 
Pond-weed,  its  introdnction  into  Eng- 
land, 216. 
Primrose  time,  7. 

H. 

Rabbit,  a  snow-white  wild,  135. 
Rain  on  the  root  crops,  152. 
Rhnbarb,  45. 
Rodents,  a  winter's  supply  of,  90. 

8. 

Seedtime,  early,  88. 
Shelley  quoted,  166. 
Sloes,  wtiere   they  grow    largest   and 

sweetest,  105. 
Solomon  quoted,  160. 
Sorby,  Mr.,  what  he  has  shows,  47. 
Spring.  bog*nnin0s  of,  19. 

flowers  40 
fiporge,  on  Claverton  Down.  £9. 
Sponoer,  Herbert,  obwnration  oa  aal- 

mals,  91. 


Sqairrels,  a  nest  of.  89. 

in  what  they  differ  from   field- 
mouse  and  nuthatch,  89. 
Summer,  a  trip  in,  desci  ilied,  71. 
Sundew,  Swinburne's  lines  about,  130. 
Simdown,  blood-sucking  properties  of, 

181. 
Swallows,  their  return,  13. 

food  of,  14. 

time  of  their  return,  14. 

fearlessness  of,  50. 
Swifts,  the  departure  of,  165. 

time  seems  longer  to  them  than  to 

man,  166. 

action  of  the,  167. 

nests  of  the,  168. 

increase  of  the.  168. 
Sell)om,  the  naturalist,  puzzled  by  the, 

160. 

T. 

Thistledown  described,  140. 

visitors  of,  142. 

self-propagating.  143. 
Thor,  the  hammer  of,  2-22. 

the  significance  of,  223. 

the  aborigines'  ideas  of,  S24. 

derivation  of  thunder  from,  224. 

how  weapons  of  are  cherished  In 

Scotland,  225. 

names  of  places  derived  from,  226. 
Trees,  the  actual  life  of,  67. 
Trout,  the  food  and  description  of,  30. 


Venlake,  meaning  of,  24. 

Vine,  vetch,  the  description  of.  111. 

varieties  of,  113. 

leaves  of,  115. 

W. 

Wallace,  his  views  of  humming-birds,  52. 
Weiemann,  Dr.,  ou  swallow  migration, 

17. 
Weeds,  waterside,  gracefulness  of,  170. 

flowers  of,  171. 

prosjenitors  of,  178. 

varieties  of,  174. 

the   aggressiveness  of  American, 

219. 
Wheat,  the  kerning  of  the,  182. 

weeds  amonif  the,  182. 

sweetness  of  fresh,  188. 

the  pedigree  of,  184. 

coach-grass  a  specie'  <>f,  184. 

goat-graf>8  a  wild  form  of,  185. 

Lake,  its  antiquity,  185. 

Lake,  its  extinction  in  Bnsland,  186. 
Wild  animals,  extinction  of  in  Britain,  70 
Wood-snrrel,  a  trefoil  of  St.  Patrick,  211' 

a  colonist  from  Central  Asia,  211.. 

Y. 

Yellow  bird'8.nest  a  rare  plant  in  Eng< 

land,  95. 
Ye^ew-rattle,  foe  in  the  hayllald,  M. 

a  desorlption  of,  95. 

the  reiatioQt  of,  M. 

^eeesdaof,  9tL 


jv 


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spontaneous  evidence  of  good  feeling, 
and  hope  that  your  vehtura  may  prove 
successful,  etc.,  etc. 

CBATTO  k  WlKDUS. 

214  PieeadiUy,  London. 

MissBs.  Ftmx  k  Waonalls  : 
Your  favor  containing  £ — 


-for  re. 

print  cf  Winks'  "Illustrious  Shoe* 
makers,"  came  duly  to  hand  and  is 
placed  to  the  credit  of  our  Joint  account 
with  the  author.  We  need  scarcely 
say  that  this  act  of  courtesy  is  duly  ap. 
preciated  by  ourselves  and  the  author. 
Tours  faithfully, 

SAMPsoKr,Low&  Oo. 
Ltndon  Cnvn  Building,  188  Fleet  St. 

MES8B&  Fimx  k  Waonau.8: 

Dear  Sift: 

I  thank  you  most  hr~rtily  for  the 
Three  Hundred  Pounds  ($1,600)  you 
have  Just  remitted  as  royalty  on  my 
'Treasury  of  David"  In  America.  I  right 
gratefully  acknowledge  t -is.  Tou  have 
acted  toward  me  in  a  highly  honorable 
and  satisfactory  manner,  and  I  have 
great  pleasure  in  having  your  house  to 
publish  my  wor^s.  Fair  dealing,  where 
there  is  no  law  to  compel  it,  is  not  so 
common  that  it  becomes  a  matter  of 
course.  Long  may  you  prosper,  and 
find  it  to  be  all  the  sweeter  to  prosper 
because  you  deal  generously  with  au> 
thors. 

I  am  now  forty-nine,  and  cannot  ex- 
pect as  many  n:ore  years  of  authorship 
as  I  have  had.     Tours  most  heartily, 

O.  H.  SnntoxoN. 

London,  England. 

Re-v.  Charles  F.D««ms,  lsL,D^ 

New  Tork,  says:  "I  have  placed  the 
first  twoTOlumpsof  the  1883  Periesin 
our  ehuxch  library.'' 


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Sartor  Besartus;  The  Life  and  Opinions  of  Herr  Teufelsdr6ckh.  By 
Thomas  Gablxue.  Paper,  176  pp.  (Standard  Series,  octavo.  No. 
60),  25  cents;  8vo,  cloth,  60  cents. 

on  the  homely  topic  of  the  philosophy 
of  clothes,  he  has  brought  together 
much  of  the  deepest  speculation,  the 
finest  poetry,  the  noblest  morals,  and 
the  wildest  humor  that  his  or  any  age 
has  produced." 


Dr.  John  liord  saya:  "Every  page 
is  stamped  with  genius.  It  shows  pic* 
tares  of  the  struggle  of  the  soul  which 
axe  wonderful." 

Appl'  ton*4  Kncyclop8edla,1860 

edition.  'Carlyle,"  page 4i3,  says:  "In 
the  course  of  the  year  1833-4,  he  pub. 
Ushed  in  Frofer's  the  most  peculiar 
and  remarkabla  of  all  his  works— the 
quaint,  the  whimsical,  the  profound, 
tne  humor ::.us  and  th-^  poetio  '  Sartor 
Besartus,'  into  which  he  seems  to  have 
poured  all  the  treasures  of  hia  mind 
and  heart.  Under  the  eccentric  guise 
of  a  vagabond  Oerman  philosopher,  and 


The  Baptist  Re-view  says  of 
hi4  booli :  "  Tou  find  passages  briuuful 
of  humor,  scathiug  in  their  sarcasm, 
crystalline  in  their  simplicity,  tearful 
in  their  pathos,  splendid  in  their 
beauty.  Tou  meet  a  fresbness  like  that 
of  a  spring  morning,  a  suggestivenesa 
that  is  electric  to  the  soul." 


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TALKS  TO  FARMERS. 

BY  CHARLES  H.  SPURGEON. 

800  pp.»  12mo,  Cloth,  $1.00. 

This  is  the  last,  and  one  of  the  best,  of  the  vronderful  productions 
of  the  fertile  pen  and  prolific  brain  of  Mr.  Spurgeon.  It  consists  of  a 
series  of  Talks  to  Farmers.  Each  Talk  is  a  short  sermon  from  a 
text  on  some  sabject  ocnoeming  agriculture.  Mr.  Spurgeon  is  as 
much  at  home  in,  and  as  familiar  with,  the  soeoes  of  nature  as  he  is 
with  the  stores  and  business  of  mighty  London. 

WHAT  IS  THOUGHT  OF  IT. 


Canadian B«pti«»  Bays:  "Onr 
readers  need  no  information  about  Mr. 
Spurgeon.  Hia  name  is  a  household 
word.  They  read  his  sermona  con- 
stantly. They  have  only  to  be  told  that 
something  new  of  his  has  appeared,  and 
they  are  eager  to  procure  and  read.  In 
nothing,  perhaps,  does  Mr.  Spurgeon's 
greatness  manifest  itself  mere  con« 
spicnously  than  in  his  won'lerful 
power  of  adapting  his  diseonrsea  to  the 
needs  of  those  to  wh^m  he  speaks. 
'John  Ploughman's  Talks '  and  'John 
Ploughman's  Pictures'  are  admirable 
Illustrations  of  this  power.  80  is  the 
book  before  us.  It  will  be  especially 
interesting  to  fanners,  but  all  will  en- 
Joy  the  practical  common  sense,  the 
abundance  of  illnstratlTe  anecdote,  the 
depth  of  spiritual  insight,  the  richness 
of  imagery,  that  prevail  in  the  volume. 
Ilie  subjects  of  the  different  chapters 
are:  'The  Sluggard's  Farm,'  'The 
Broken   Fence,'    'Frost   and  Thaw.' 


'The  Com  of  Wheat  Dying  to  Bring 
Forth  Fruit.'  The  Ploughman, 
'Ploughing  the  Rock,'  'The  Parable 
of  the  Sower,'  '  The  Principal  Wh^at,' 
'Sprinir  in  the  Heart,'  'FarmlAbor- 
er*,'  'What,  the  Farm  Laborers  Can 
Do  and  What  They  Cannot  Do,'  'Tho 
Sheep  before  the  Shearers,'  'In  the 
Hay  Field,'  'Spiritual  Gleaning,' 
'Meal  lime  in  the  Comfleld.'  'The 
leading  Wagon,'  'Threshing,'  'The 
Wheat  in  the  Barn.'  Every  fanner 
should  read  this  book." 

TliA  Cbristian  Monitor,  St. 
Louis,  Mo.,  says :  "Most  interesting  and 
unique.  The  arguments  in  favor  of 
OHris'ianity  are  able  and  convincing, 
and  thene  is  not  a  dry  .uninteresting  line 
in  the  book;  the  distinguished  author 
presents  the  principles  of  religious  lif-i 
in  a  novel  but  instructive  manner,  and 
the  garniture  of  truth  and  earnestness 
in  his  competent  hands  makes  the  book 
eminently  readable. ' 


Codet's  Oosimezitary  on  RoTnans, 


This  American  edition  is  edited  by  Talbot  W.  Ohambbbs,  D.D. 
large  octavo  pages.    Oloth,  $2.50. 


544 


Howard  Groslijr,  D.D.,  says: 
*'  I  consider  Oodet  a  man  of  soundest 
If^inriing  and  purost  orthodoxy." 

Thomas  Amaltage,  D»D..  says: 
"Especially  must  I  commend  the  fair, 
painstaking,thorougb  and  devout  work 
of  Dr.  Oodet.  All  his  works  are  wel- 
oome  to  every  true  thinker." 


Arthur  Brooks,  D.D.«  says: 
"Any  one  acquaintea  with  Gtodct's 
other  works  wiu  congratulate  himself 
that  the  same  author  s  dear  logic  an-l 
deep  learning,  as  brougbt  to  bear  upon 
the  difflcultiea  of  the  I^istle  to  the  Ro- 
mans, are  to  be  made  acoessible  through 
this  publication." 


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GEMS  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

From  the  Writings  of  Dr.  Guthrie,  arranged  under 
the  subjects  which  they  illustrate. 
^  By  an  American  Clcrflryman* 

Price,  in  Oloth,  $l.60« 

This  book  abounds  in  pictoresqne  similes.  Dr.  Guthrie  has  rarely, 
if  ever,  been  equaled  either  in  the  number,  beauty  or  force  of  the 
illastrations  with  which  his  sermons  and  writings  abound.  They 
have  been  collected  by  an  American  clergyman,  a  great  admirer  of 
the  author,  and  the  book  forms  a  perfect  storehouse  of  anecdotes, 
comparisons,  examples  and  illustrations.  It  contains  the  choicest  of 
his  illustrations,  arranged  under  the  subjects  which  they  illustrate. 

2/ie  L'^n^on  TmAs  says.'  "  Dr.  Outhrie  is  the  most  elegant  oral  >r  in 
Europe." 

Dr.  Cbind^tsA  says:  *<Dr.  Quthrie's  genius  has  long  since  placed 
him  at  the  head  of  all  the  gifted  and  popular  preachers  of  our  day." 

Th.  Janus  TT.  Alexander  says :  "I  listened  to  him  for  fifty  minutes, 
but  they  passed  like  nothing." 

The  lVe«tcrn  ChrUtian  Ad- 
vocate Bayi :  "Dr.  Outhrie  waa  pe- 
onliarly  happy  in  the  use  of  brilliant 
and  forcible  illustrations  in  hia  ser* 
mpna  and  writings.  An  American  has 
selected  many  of  these  gems  of  thought 
and  arranged  them  under  the  subjects 
wbich  they  illustrate.  Readers  and 
preachers  will  enjoy  them,  and  will  find 
many  beantifal  sentiments  and  seed« 
thoughts  for  present  and  future  use." 

The    Bo«ton    Sunday    Globe 

says  :  "Dr.  Quthrie's  illustrations  are 
rich  and  well  chosen  and  give  great 
force  to  his  ideas.  Love,  faith,  hope, 
charity  are  the  pillars  of  his  belief." 


The  Christian  Intelllgviieer 

says  :  "  It  is  a  luge  repository  full  of 
stirring  thoughts  set  in  those  splendid 
forms  of  <  spiritualized  imagination,'  of 
which  Dr.  Outhrie  was  the  peerless 
master." 

Tbe  Christian  Observer,  Louis* 

ville.  says:  '■  No  words  of  ours  could 
add  to  its  yalue." 


'A  rar* 


The  Liiithernn  Observer,  Phila> 
delphia,  says:  "The  power  of  illustra- 
tion should  be  cultivated  by  preachers 
of  the  Ctospel,  and  this  volume  of  speci- 
mens,  if  used  aright,  will  rumish  valu- 
able suggestions.  A  good  illustration 
in  a  sermon  awakens  the  imagination, 
helps  the  memory  and  gives  the  barb 
to  truth  that  it  may  fasten  in  the 
heart." 


The  Bostm  post  says: 
mine  of  literary  wealth." 

Tho  Observer,  New  York,  says:  "It 

was  not  given  to  every  generation  to 
have  a  Outhrie." 

The  Chr  s*l«n  Advooai'e,  New 

Tork.  says:   "This  book  will  be  read 
with  interest  by  the  religious  world." 

The  Zlon's  Heral<f,  Boston,  says: 
"Preachers  will  appreciate  this  vol- 
ume." 

The  Christian  Oaardian,  To* 

ronto,  says:  "An  ezoeedinglyintartsting 
and  valuable  work." 


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What  Our  Oirls  Ought  to  Know. 

-BY- 
MARY  J.  STUDLEY,  M.  D. 

261  pp.,  12  mo.  Cloth  $1.00. 

A  moit  praotloal  and  raluable  book;  ihonld  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  erery 
girl. 

Intelligentlv  read,  it  will  acoompllih  xnuoh  in  the  elevation  of  the  human  race. 

It  la  lull  of  Information  which  every  girl  ought  to  know. 

Parents  Teachers,  Clergymen  and  others  who  have  the  education  of  children, 
or  who  have  occasion  to  address,  in  sermon  or  lecture,  girls,  will  find  this  book 
'  crammed  TTith  suggestiTeness." 

The  authoress,  Alary  J.  btudley,  M.  D..  was  a  physician  of  large  practice  and 

Sreat  success.  She  was  a  graduate,  resident  physician  and  teaobei-  ot  the  Natural 
oiencesin  the  State  Normal  School,  Framingham.  Mass.:  slso  graduate  o'!  the 
Woman's  Medical  College,  New  York;  Dr.  Emily  Blackwell.  Secretary  of  the 
Faculty,  and  Dr.  Willard  Parker.  Chairman  of  the  l;oard  of  Examiners. 

fTHjiT  JS  TUOUGT  OF  MT, 


Vtij/r  York  IVnrld  says:  "  SenBi- 
able  essays  on  subjects  which  the  au- 
thor has  taught  in  the  schoolroom, 
written  in  a  style  that  is  clear  and  pro- 
perly chosen  for  girls." 

Boston      Woinitn*s      Jnnrna' 

says:  "It  derives  its  principal  value 
flrom  the  fact  that  I>r.  Studley  was  a 
firm  believer  in  the  possibility  and  duty 
of  so  reiiulating  the  details  ot  every-day 
life  as  to  secure  and  preserve  physical 
health  and  vigor,  and  that  such  a  course 
is  essential  as  a  foundatioa  for  the 
higher  moral  and  Intellectual  develop- 
ment." 

Union  Argaa,  Brooklyn,  says:  "It 


is  a  practical  book,  and  will  do  good  if 
thJughfuUy  read." 

Montreal  natljr  Witness  says: 

"  It  IS  a  valuable  book  for  girls." 

MMthiHlut,  Kecorcl«r«  Pittsburg, 
says:  "It  should  be  placed  in  the 
hands  of  every  girl." 

Coinm«rolHl,  Cincinnati,  says: 
'*  Dr.  Mary  Studley  was  a  gifted  woman. 
Her  knowledge  was  ripe.  Tho  book  is  a 
good  one." 

School  Jonrnal,  NewTork,  says: 
"Every  sensible  mother  will  wish  to 
place  a  book  like  this  in  her  daughter's 
hands." 

Journal  ot  Cnninierr«,  New 
York,  says:  "  This  is  a  capital  book." 


TALKS  AND  STORIES  ABOUT  HEROES  AND  HOLIDAYS. 

Price,  cloth,  illustrated,  $1.25.;  paper,  60  cents. 

This  book  contains  id  est  interesting  talks  to  boys  and  girls  by 
many  well-known  men,  such  as  Drs.  Gnyler,  Storrs,  Newton,  aod 
others,  and  is  richly  illustrated  by  forty  new  cuts  and  many  inci- 
dent and  object-illustrations,  making  it  a  beautiful  gift  book.  The 
addresses  are  nearly  all  written  in  a  cheerful  and  happy  style. 

WHAT  MS  S^IO  OF  IT. 


Illaatra«4>d  Chrtstinn  Mr«>ekly 

says:  "A  good  man  v  bright  and  RUggest- 
ive  things  will  be  found  herein." 

Central  Hresbyt«*rl in  says:  "A 
beautiful  present  for  a  child,  a  parent, 
a  teacher,  of  a  preacher.'^ 

The  Advance  says:  *'The  ser> 
mons  are  plain,  practical,  easily  under- 
stood and  full  of  illustration." 

Bible  '!'« achfr  saya:  "A  very 
Interesting  book  for  the  home  circle." 

Amtsrtcan   Ltlterary  Cliurcli- 


man  says:  "Are  well  adapted  to  ar. 
rest  attention." 

Congrei;  atlonalist  says:   "Spec* 

Imens  of  tho  work  which  many  pastors 
are  doinGC  week  by  week  for  vhe  children 
of  their  congregations." 

National  Gazette  says:  *'Both 
edifying  and  entertaining." 

Gk^spel  in  All  1,iinds  says: 
"  Brief,  racy  sermons  full  of  the  Oosp.l 
and  common  sense." 


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«6 


-ft 


«» Tit*  most  Important  and  pmetlenl  ^rork  of  tho  nco  on  tlio 

Psnlma/^BCHAFF. 

SIX  voLrUMsa  Mo^r  ready. 
-SPURCEON'S  CRIAT  LIFI  WORK- 

THE  TREASURY   OF   DAVID  I 

To  be  published  in  seven  octavo  volumes  of  about  470  pages  eaoh, 
uniformly  bound,  and  making  a  library  of  3,300  pages, 
in  handy  form  for  reading  and  reference. 
It  is  published  simultaneously  with,  aad  contains  the  exact  matter  <xU 
the  English  Edition,  which  has  sold  at  $4.00  per  volume 
in  this  country— $28.00  for  the  work  when  com- 
pleted. Our  edition  is  in  every  way  pref- 
erable, and   is   furnished    at 

ONE-HAU*  THB  PBIOS  OV 

THE  ENGLISH 

XDmOK. 

Price,  Per  Vol.  $2X0. 

** Messrs.  Funk  &»  IVagnaiis  have  entered  inio  an  arrangement  tuitk 
me  to  reprint  THE  TREASUR  V  OF  DA  VID  in  the  United  States.  J 
have  every  confidence  in  them  that  they  will  issue  it  correctly  and  worthily. 
It  has  deen  the  great  literary  work  of  my  life,  and  I  trust  it  will  be  as 
kindly  receive  in  America  as  in  England,  I  wish  for  Messrs,  Funk  sue* 
eess  in  a  venture  which  must  ittvolve  a  great  risk  and  much  outlay. 

''Dec.  8y  i88i,  C.  H,  SPURGE  ON,** 

Volumes  L,  II.,  IIL,  lY.,  Y.  and  VL  are  now  ready;  volume 
Yir.,  which  completes  the  great  work,  is  now  under  the  hand  of  the 
author.  Subscribers  can  consult  their  convenience  by  ordering  ail 
the  volumes  issued,  or  one  volume  at  a  time,  at  stated  intervals,  until 
the  set  is  completed  by  the  delivery  of  Volume  Vll. 

From  the  large  number  of  hearty  commendations  of  this  import- 
ant work,  we  give  the  following  to  indicate  the  value  set  upon  the 
same  by 

EMINENT  THEOLOGIANS  AND  SCHOLARS. 


Philip  Schalf,  CD.,  the  Sminent 
CommentAtor  and  the  President  of  the 
American  Bible  Beviaion  Oommittee, 
■ayt:  *•  The  most  important  and  prac- 


tical work  of  the  age  on  the  Psalter  Is 
'  The  Treasury  of  Dayid,'  by  Charles  H 
Spnrgeon.  It  is  fall  of  the  force  and 
genius  of  this  celebxated  preacher,  and 


(over.) 


'Tht  ahcoe  worJka  will  it  tent  fy  mail,  pattagt  ptud,  tn  reeti/t  tf  tkefriet. 


SM 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  FUNK  d  lyAGNALLS,  NEIT  YORK. 


rich  in  Mleotions  from  th«  •ntlr*  nuiga 
oXUUrftture." 

IVI  Ham  M.  Tnylor.  D.D.* 
ITewTork  aays:  ■  In  the  ezpoiitlon  of 
the  haort  'Thk  TuKASuny  ov  Davii/  ifl 
•Ki  gen-rit,  rich  In  «zp«rienoe  and  pre* 
•mtnently  devotional.  The  oxpoaition 
!■  al«»^  ■  Aresb.  To  the  pzjaoher  it  ii 
•sp^oially  BuggestiTe." 

John   Hall,    D.D.,    Kew  York, 

tays:  •<  There  are  two  questloni  that 
must  interest  e/ary  expositor  of  th» 
Divine  Word.    What  does  a  particular 

Sassage  mean,  and  to  what  use  is  it  to 
e  applied  in  publlo  teaohingf  In  the 
department  of  the  latter  Mr.  Bpur- 
geon's  great  work  on  the  PBalmsls 
without  an  equal.  Eminently  practical 
in  his  own  teaching,  he  has  ooueoted  in 
these  volumes  the  best  thoughts  of  the 
best  minds  outhe  Psalter,  and  ear  c< 
cially  of  that  great  body. loosely  grouped 
together  as  the  Puritan  divines.  lam 
heartily  glad  that  by  arranfrements, 
satisfactory  to  all  concerned, tl  e  Messrs. 
Funk  &  Waanails  are  to  bring  mis  gr  at 
work  within  tbi)  reach  ol  ministers 
everywhere,  as  the  English  edition  ia 
necessarily  expenslva.  I  wish  the 
highest  success  to  the  enterprise." 

William  Ormlston,  n.T>.,Kew 

York,  says:  "  I  consider  •  I'hxTiuububt 
ov  DAVin'  a  work  of  surpassing  excel- 
lenoo,of  inestimable  value  to  every  atu* 
dent  of  tho  i  Salter.  It  will  prove  a 
standard  work  on  the  Psalms  for  all 
time.  The  instructive  introdnotions, 
the  racy  ori^jinal  expositions,  the 
numerous  quaint  Illustrations  gath- 
ered irom  wide  and  varied  fields,  and 
the  suggestive  sarmonio  hints,  render 
the  volumes  invaluable  to  all  preacheis, 
and  indispensable  to  every  minister's 
1  ibrary .  All  who  delight  in  reading  the 
PsaloB— and  what  Christian  does  not? 
—will  prise  this  work.  It  is  a  rich 
cyolopedia  of  the  literature  of  these 
ancient  odes." 

Tlk«o.  li.  rnyler,  O.D.,  Brook- 
lyn.  says:  "  I  have  used  Mr.  Spurgeon's 
•Thk  Tbxasuby  of  David'  for  three 
years,  and  found  it  worthy  of  its  name. 
Whoso  goethin  there  will  find  'rich 
spoils.'  At  both  my  visits  to  Mr.  8.  he 
spoke  with  much  eothusiasm  of  tiiia 
undertaking  as  one  of  his  favorite 
methods  of  enriching  himself  and 
others." 

JesaeB.  Thomas,  D.O  ,  Brook, 
lyn,  says:  "  I  have  the  highest  concep* 


tion  of  the  sterling  worth  of  all  Mr. 
Spurgeon's  publications,  and  I  incline 
to  regard  hla  TaKAanny  or  David'  aa 
having  received  more  of  hi  a  loving 
labor  than  any  other.  I  regard  its 
publication  at  a  lower  price  as  a  ereat 
service  to  American  Bible  btud.uts." 

Nevr  York  Obserrer  saya:  "  A 
rich  compendium  of  suggestive  oom« 
ment  upon  the  richest  devotional 
poetry  ever  given  to  mankind. ' 

Th«  Congrogationaltst,  Bos- 
ton, says:  "  As  a  devout  and  spiritually 
suggestive  work,  it  is  meeting  with 
the  warmest  approval  and  receiving 
the  hearty  commendation  of  the  most 
distinguished  divines." 

Vnltod  Proabjrterlan,  Pitts- 
burg.  Pa.,  says:  "It  la  nnapproached 
as  a  commentary  on  the  Psalms.  It  la 
of  equal  value  to  ministers  and  lay- 
men — a  quality  that  works  of  the  kind 
rarely  poasess." 

Nortii  Amvrlran,  Philadelphia, 
Pa.:  Bays:  *'\Vill  find  a  place  in  the 
library  of  every  minister  who  knows 
how  to  appreciate  a  good  thing." 

Nei¥  York  Independ^'iit  aays: 
"  He  has  ransacked  evangelical  litera- 
ture,and  comes  forth,  like  Jessica  from 
her  father's  house,  'gilded  with 
ducats'  and  rich  plunder  in  the  shapa 
of  good  and  helptul  quotations.' 

Ne^vr  York  Tribane  says:  "For 
the  great  majority  of  readers  who  seek 
in  the  Psalms  those  practical  lessons 
in  which  they  are  so  rich,  and  those 
wonderful  interpretations  of  heart-life 
and  expression  of  emotion  in  which 
they  anticipate  tho  New  Testament,  wa 
know  of  no  book  like  this,  nor  as  good. 
It  is  literally  a  •  Treasury.' " 

8.  8.  Times savs:  "Mr.  Ppurgeon's 
style  is  simple,  direct  and  perspicuous, 
olten  reminding  one  of  the  matchless 
prose  of  Bunyan." 

1Ve8t*>riiCbristlan  Advorate, 
Cincinnati,  O.,  says:  •'  The  price  is  ex- 
tremely moderate  for  so  large  and  im- 
portant a  work.  ♦  •  •  Wo  have  ex* 
amined  this  volume  with  care,  and  we 
are  greatly  pleased  with  the  plan  of 
execution." 

Christian  Herald  says;  "Con- 
tains more  felicitous  illustrations, 
more  valuable  sermonlc  hints,  than  can 
be  found  in  all  other  works  on  the 
same  book  put  together." 


J'^ 


■\\ 


The  abmt  works  vnll  bt  stni  by  mail,  fotiagt  paid,  on   receipt  of  th*  price* 


PUBLICATIOS.^  (}/<'  J'lWK  &-  H'AG.VAt.LS,  NE»'  VOXK. 


Y\1 


J'1 


Three  Neifr  Books,  bjr  Or.  Joi. 
Parker,  are  Included  In  our  mldflum* 
nier  offer.  Bourgeon  speaks  most  high- 
ly of  these  yolumes.  Eee  ssyeral  speol^l 
offers  iu  March  number  HoHXUCTxa 
Mom  1  b  l  '.    Frice  2S  cents. 

FeT.  G.  W.  Itfartin,  MonU, 
TTtah,  says:  '-I  inclose  you  $60  as 
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such  opportunity  of  labor  as  the  past 
day  and  one-balf  have  b»enl  You  ran- 
not  now  estimate  results  in  this  West- 
ern town.  Oo  on!  I  expect  to  send 
more  naines." 

Tk«  Publishers    of  the  Iton- 


don  Chronicle  iDr.  Joseph  Parker  n 
paper)  write  us:  "We  have  shown 
your  Buiry  Ward  Beecher  book  to  a 
number  of  London  publisberH.  They 
declare  that  they  do  not  believe  any 
publisher  in  London  could  have  made 
so  good  plates."  The  book  Is  a  fine 
speciuen  of  Iho  printer's  art.  Thu 
price  of  the  Beeohcr  book  is  un- 
changeably fixed  at  $3.00.  Our  agents 
are  selling  hundreds  of  copies  at  that 
price.  The  Cincinnati  Commercial-Ga- 
tette  pronounces  it  one  of  the  best 
biographical  books  that  has  appeared 
for  years. 


i 


Eastern  Proverbs  and  EmblemSe 

— BY— 

Bev.  A.  LONO,  member  of  the  Bengal  Asiatio  Society. 
8vo,  280  pp.    Price,  cloth,  $1.00. 

ninstrated  Old  Truths— selected  from  over  1,000  rolnmes,  some 
Tery  taief  and  to  be  consulted  only  1  i  libraries  in  India,  Bussia  and 
otbcr  parts  of  the  Continent,  or  in  the  British  Museum.  All  are 
classified  under  subjects,  enabling  teiohers  aod  preachers  to  fix  in 
the  school,  the  pulpit,  or  the  press,  great  spiritual  truths  by  means 
of  emblems  and  illustrations  drawn  from  the  depths  of  the  popular 
miud.  This  book  is  the  opening  of  a  rich  storehouse  of  emblems 
and  proverbs. 

The  object  of  ihis  hook  is— To  group  together,  under  appropriate 
heads.  Oriental  proverbs  illustrative  of  familiar  truths. 

To  select  from  Holy  Writ  prominent  themes,  and  compare  them 
with  similar  Oriental  expressions. 

To  show  thereby  the  oneness  of  human  experiences  under  widely 
different  circumstances  and  beliefs. 

To  elucidate  the  significance  of  natural  phenomena  found  in 
Biblical  proverbs. 

To  explain,  in  a  trite  and  winsome  manner,  the  meaning  and 
usage  of  various  customs  in  the  Orient. 

This  book  is — Entertaining  to  tho  general  reader,  and  evincing  in 
a  forcible  manner  the  superiority  of  the  Scriptures  over  uninspired 
writings. 


Ihe  Boston  Post  says:  "A  quaint, 
curious  vrork;  very  interesting,  tihows, 
in  a  wondertul  manner,  how  widely 
scattered  nations,  under  ^mllar  circum- 
stances, evolve,  firom  their  own  ex- 
perience,   similar    conclusions.     The 


identity  of  human  nature  u  the  great 
truth  taught." 
'Ihe  Ctirlsiian  Advocate,  New 

Tork,  says:  "The  proverbs  are  well 
chosen— wonderful  condensations  of 
wisdom.    A  valuable  and  useful  work." 


Tke  above  works  will  be  tent  bgf  mat',  pottage  paid,  on  receipt  of  tk*  price. 


238 


PUBLlCATIOUrS  or  FUNK  A  WAQITALLS,  THSW  TORS, 


Fulton's  Replies. 

l^imishmetit  of  Sin  Eternal.  Three  sermons  in  reply  to  Beecher, 
Farrar  and  IngersoU.  By  Jubtisi  D.  ib'uXiXOM,  D.I>.  8vo,  paper, 
10  cents. 

Gllead'  An  Allegory. 

Gilead;  or,  The  Vision  of  All  Sonls'  Hospital.  An  Allegory.  By 
Bev.  J.  Hyatt  Smith,  Congressman  from  New  York.  lUviaed 
edilion,    12mo,  cloth,  350  pp.,  $1.00. 

Godet's  Commentary  on  Luke, 

A  Commentary  on  the  Gospel  of  St.  Lnke.  By  F.  Godet,  Doctor 
and  Professor  of  Theology,  Neufchatel.  Translated  from  the 
Second  French  Edition.  \Vilh  Preface  and  Notes  by  John  Hall, 
D.D.  New  edition,  printed  on  heavy  paper.  2  vols.,  pap^r, 
584  pp.  (Standard  Series;,  octavo,  Nos.  51  and  52),  $2.00;  1  vol., 
8vo,  cloth,  $2.50. 

Gospel  of  Mark. 

From  the  Teachers'  Edition  of  the  Revised  New  Testament,  with 
Harmony  of  the  Gospels,  List  of  Lessons,  Maps,  etc.  Paper, 
15  cents;  cloth,  50  cents. 

Half-Dime  Hymn  Book. 

Standnrd  Hymns.  Wi'h  Biographical  Notes  of  their  Anthors. 
Compiled  by  Rf  v.  Edwaet>  P.  Thwino.  32mo,  paper,  96  pp. 
Each,  6  cents;  in  lots  of  fifty  or  more,  5  cents. 

Hand-Book  of  Illustrations. 

The  Preacher's  Ca^^inct.    A  Hand-Book  of  UlnstraMons.    By  Rer, 
Edwabd  p.  Thwino,  author  of  "Drill-Book  in  Vocal  Cultnre," 
I        "Outdoor  Life  in  Europe,"  etc.    Fourth  edition.    2  vols.  12mo, 
'        paper,  144  pp.,  50  cents. 

Home  Altar. 

The  Home  Altar:  An  Appeal  in  Behalf  of  Family  Worship.  With 
Prayers  and  Hymns  for  Family  Use.  By  Rev.  Chablxs  F. 
Deems,  LL.D.,  pastor  of  the  Church  of  the  Strangers.  Third  ecUion, 
12mo,  cloth,  281  pp.,  75  cents. 


Tht  above  worJct  vtill  be  lent  by  mail,  pertofft  yatd,  on  reoeipt  qf  ikepriot. 


mm^ 


S89 


THE  STANDARD  LIBRARY. 

WHAT    BEPBESENTATIVE   CL.ERGYMEX   SAY 

OF  IT, 


Chas.  R.  Hall,  D«D*,  Holy  Trinity  Episcopal  Ghnrch,  Brooklyn, 

Bays : 
"  Great  book  monopolies,  like  huge  railroad  syndicates,  arc  now  the  mo- 
narchical relics  against  which  the  benevolence  and  radicalism  of  tbe  ugu, 
from  dilfcrent  standpoints,  are  bound  to  wage  war.  Each  source  will  liavo 
its  owu  motives  and  arguments,  but  each  willresolve  to  conquer  in  the  long 
ran.  At  one  end  of  the  scale  we  have  the  Life  of  Dickens  offered  for  |8(X», 
that  some  one  wealtliy  man  may  enjoy  the  comfort  of  liis  proud  privilcgo 
of  wealth  in  having  what  no  other  mortal  possesses  ;  at  the  other,  we  find 
the  volume  offered  at  10  or  'M  cents,  which  any  newsbov  or  thoughtful 
laborer  uses  in  common  with  thousands.  In  the  great  strife  for  the  great- 
est good  of  the  largest  number,  put  me  down  as  on  the  side  of  the  last.  £ 
enclose  my  subscription  order  for  u  year." 

Rer.  Chas.  W*  Cashing,   D«D«,   First  M.  E.  Church,  Rochester, 
N.  Y.,  says : 

"One  of  the  mosb  pernicious  sources  of  evil  among  our  young  peopio 
Is  the  books  they  read.  When  I  can  get  a  young  man  interested  in  «rt6«/a»' 
titU  booht,  I  have  great  hope  of  him.  For  this  reason  1  have  been  deeply 
Interested  in  your  effort  to  make  good  books  as  cheap  as  bad  ones.  I  men- 
tioned the  matter  from  my  pulpit.  As  a  result  1  at  once  got  fift3'-four  sub- 
scribers for  the  full  set,  and  more  to  come." 

J.  O.  Peck,  D.D.,  7':rzt  M.  E.  Church,  Brooklyn,  N.  T.,  says: 

"  Tour  effort  is  t«.^imeudable.  You  ought  to  have  the  co-operation  of 
all  good  men.    It  is  a  moral,  heroic,  and  humane  enterprise." 

Pres,  Jlfark  Hopkins,  D*D.,  of  Williams  College,  says : 

"  The  attempt  of  Messrs.  Fnnk  and  Wagnalla  to  place  pood  literature 
within  reach  cf  the  masses  is  worthy  of  all  commcndntion  and  encourage- 
ment. If  the  plan  can  be  successfully  carried  out,  it  will  be  a  great  boon 
to  tbe  country." 

«3so.  C.  Lorrimer,  D.D.,  Baptist  Church,  Chicago,  says : 

"  I  sincerely  hope  your  endeavors  to  circulate  a  wholesome  and  elevat- 
ing class  of  books  will  prove  successful.  Crrtalnlv,  clergvmen,  and  Chris- 
tians generally,  cannot  afford  thnt  It  should  fall.  'In  proof  of  my  personal 
interest  in  your  endeavors,  I  subscribe  for  a  year." 

J.  P.  Newman,  D.D*,  New  York,  says  : 

"I  have  had  faith  from  the  beelnnlng  in  the  mission  of  Messrs.  Fnnk  «fe 
Wagnalls.  It  required  great  faith  on  their  part,  and  their  success  is  in 
proof  that  all  things  are  possible  to  htm  that  belleveth.  They  have  done 
xor  the  public  what  long  was  needed,  but  what  other  publishers  did  not 
venture  to  do." 

Henrr  J*  Tan  Dyke,  D.D.,  Presbyterian  Church,  Brooklyn,  N.  T., 
says: 


"  Good_book8  are  great  blessings.    They  drive  out  darkness  by  letting 
'  plan  oughti  not  to  fail  for  la  "     "  •     -  . 

on  tbe  liat  of  subscribers.** 


In  light.    Tour  plan  ought,  not  to  fail  for  lack  of  support.    Pat  my  name 


11  u 


I  t    S   1       I    ..  j     ( 


240 


T.  W.  Chnmbers,  D.D.,  Collegiate  Reformed  Church,  New  York,  brj  .: 

"  The  plan  seems  t<»  ino  both  praiseworthy  uud  feasible.  I  trust  it  will 
meet  with  bpecdy  and  abundant  succuss." 

Sylvester  F.  Scovel,  I>,U,,   First  Presbyterian  Church,   Pittsburgh, 
Pa.,  says : 

"  Your  plans  deserve  a  place  in  the  category  of  moral  reforms.  The 
foes  they  meet,  the  width  of  the  battle-ground  they  can  be  expanded  to 
cover,  the  manifold  incidental  blessings  they  may  convey  to  thousands  of 
households,  the  national  and  international  currents  of  thought  they  may 
set  in  motion,  entitle  them  beyond  all  question  to  prompt  and  efficient  aid 
from  clergymen  and  the  whole  Christian  Church.'' 

Ezra  Abbot,  D.D.y  LL.D.,  of  Harvard  College,  says: 

"I  heartily  approve  of  your  project.  I  shall  bo  glad  to  receive  and 
commend  the  volumes  to  buyers.    I  send  you  my  subscription." 

Thos.  Armitage,  D.D*,  Fifth  Avenue  Baptist   Church,  New  York, 
says: 

"  Your  plan  is  grand  and  philanthropic.  I  wish  you  success,  and  ask 
you  to  put  me  down  for  one  set,  with  the  asmraiice  that  I  will  aid  you  by 
every  kmd  word  which  opportunity  suggests." 

William  M*  Taylor,  D.D.,  Broadway  Tabernacle,  New  York,  says  : 

"  The  success  of  the  plan  depends  very  much  on  the  character  of  th« 
books  selected  ;  but  if  you  are  wise  in  that  pailicular,  us  I  have  no  doubt, 
you  will  be  benefactors  to  many  struggling  readers  in  whose  experience  a 
new  book  is  one  of  tlie  rarest  treats.  I  am  glad  to  see,  too,  that  you  are 
making  arrangements  with  the  English  publishers,  so  that  in  coxif erring 
a  boon  upon  readers  hero  you  will  not  be  doing  injustice  to  authors  across 
the  sea." 

Jamen  Eells,  D.D.,  Lane  Theological  Seminary,  Cincinnati,  O.,  says  : 

"  From  the  reputation  of  your  house  I  am  ready  to  believe  that  you  will 
publish  only  worthy  books.    I  heartily  wish  you  success." 

E.  J.  Wolf,  D.D*,  of  the  Lutheran  Seminary,  Gettysburg,  Pa.,  says: 

"  A  more  laudable  project  I  can  hardly  conceive  of.  Vicious  literature 
has  long  had  the  advantage  in  that  It  was  put  within  easy  reach  of  the 
masses.  The  poverty  of  many  who  fain  would  use  the  very  best  books  has 
often  distressed  me.  I  feel  in  my  heart  that  tiie  noble  enterprise  of  your 
house  is  deserving  of  the  most  liberal  encouragement." 

Bishop  Samael  Fallows,   Reformed  Episcopalian  Church,  Chicago, 
says : 

•*  Your  plan  for  supplying  the  masses  with  the  best  reading  at  such  a 
nominal  price  cannot  be  too  highly  commended." 

J*  li.  Barrows,  D.D.,  Baptist  Church,  Norfolk,  Va.,  says  : 

"  Every  endeavor  to  supersede  poison  by  food  for  the  people  deserves 
encouragement." 

Bev.  W.  F,  Crafts,  Lee  Avenue  Congregatlonalist  Church,  Brooklyn. 

Siiys : 
"In  the  West  they  displace  the  worthless  prairie  grass  by  sowing  Wue 
grass.  The  soil  is  ti>o  rich  to  bo  inactive.  It  will  have  a  right  or  wrong 
activity.  So  about  the  love  of  reading:  in  the  youug.  It  is  prime  soil  and 
"wHl  bear  tall  wire  grass  if  we  do  not  give  it  blue  grass.  It  will  have  bad 
reading,  if  the  good,  equally  cheap  and  attractive,  U  not  provided." 


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Yonng's  iBalyticiil  Concordance 

jREI>VCEl>  TO  $2. SO, 


Dr.  Toans  cannot  endure  to  have  tble,  tbe  great  work  of  his  life,  judged  by  the  un- 
authorized edltloni  with  which  the  American  market  Is  flooded.  These  editions,  ne  feels, 
do  his  work  and  the  American  public  great  Injustice. 

That  Americans  may  be  able  to  see  the  work  as  printed  under  his  eye  ahd  from  his  own   . 
plates,  he  will  sell  some  thon^asds  of  copies  at   «  \ 


A  Great  Pecuniary  Sacrifice. 


-In  every  respect  the  same  type,  paper,  binding,  etc.,  as  we 


The  tale  at  the  reduced  prices  will  begin  March  1, 1883,  and  will  continue  until  the 
thousands  of  copies  set  apart  fo^  this  sale  are  exhausted.  This  it  the  authorized,  latent 
recitied  and  Unabridged  edition— I  --- 

have  sold  at  the  higner  prices. 

Itls  a  burning  shame  that  the  great  life-work  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  scholars,  a 
work  pronounced  in  both  Europe  and  America  as  one  of  the  most  laborious  and  Important 
that  tnljs  century  has  produced,  embracing  nearly  1100  large  quarto  pages,  each  larger  and 
contalniag  more  matter  than  Webster's  Unabridged  Dictionary,  should  prove  a  great 
financial  l69s  to  Its  author ! 

This  great  work  Is  selling  In  England  at  $9,  and  !«  ?>ow  Imported  and  sold  In  America 
at|».50!r 

Orden  will  b«  filled  In  the  orier  received  vp  %o  the  time  of  the  exhanition 
Of  the  Btock. 


YouNG'8  Great  Concordance. 

DO   JiOT   B£    DfiCEITKD. 

There  is  but  one  authorized  and  eorreet  edition  of  Toung'fl  Concordance  sold 
in  America.  JSv^ry  copy  of  thtf, edition  has  on  the  title-page  the  words 
"Authorized  Edition,**  and'^at  the  bottom  of  the  page  the  imprint 

Nbw  Yobk  :  FuMK  &  Waoralls.    Edinburgh  :  Georgk  Adam  Yoimo  &  Compant. 

All  copies,  no  matter  by  whom  sold,  that  have  not  these  words  printed  on  the  tltle>page 
are  printed  on  the  bungling  plates  made  by  the  late  American  Book  Exchange. 

Dr.  YouNO  says :  "  This  unauthorized  American  edition  Is  an  outrage  on  the  American 
puUic,  and  on  me,  containing  gross  errors." 

Rev.  Dr.  John  Haix  says : 

"  Dr.  Robert  Young's  Analytical  Concordance  la  worthy  of  the  lifetime  of  labor  he  has 
spent  upon  it.  I  deeply  regret  that  his  natural  and  Just  expectation  of  some  return  from 
its  sale  on  this  side  of  tbe  ocean  is  not  realized  ;  and  I  hone  the  scnae  of  Justice  to  a 
most  painstaking  author  will  lead  to  the  choice  by  many  purchasers  of  the  edition  which 
Dr.  Young  approves— that  of  Messrs.  Fcnk  &  Waonalls,  with  whom  Dr.  Young  co- 
operates In  bri^iglng  out  here  the  best  edition. 

"NbwYc^k.  JOHN  hall." 

Do  not  be  lecelved  by  misrepresentations.  Insist  that  your  bookseller  furnish  you  tbe 
Authorized  edition. 

REDUCED    PRICES: 

1100  quarto  pages  (each  larger  than  a  page  in  Webster's  Unabridged  Dictionary),  Cloth,  f  2  50 

Sheep 4  00 

French  im.  morocco 4  SO 

Sent  post-free. 

FUNK  &  WAGNALIS,  10  &  12  Dey  Street,  New  York. 


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400 

4  50 


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